Not As Expected
by worldsapart
Summary: Hermione marries Harry to escape the Muggleborn reg law. Charlie is protecting Tonks and Remus by pretending to be the father of their unborn child. Things are far too complicated for a relationship but they're about to get even more so. No DH Anti cliche
1. The Bad News

Chapter One

The Bad News

Hermione was dreading the Sunday night dinner at the Burrow much the same as she did every week. It wasn't that she didn't like going – that wasn't it all – it's just that so much had changed since her earlier days spent with the family that one day she had looked up with a sudden realization that life would never be the same. The war was over, but her life didn't resemble anything like she had pictured.

It had started over two years ago, she knew, and it had come on so gradually that she couldn't really be sure what the final change had been that ruined everything for her. She knew the first. That had been the summer before their seventh year when Ron had dashed all Hermione's hopes of a relationship by asking out Luna Lovegood. She was happy for the two, but it had changed the group's dynamic in a way she was sure they all realized, but that none of them would admit.

Ginny's injury was certainly on the list. It had been over a year now, and the healers had all but said her best female friend would never awake from her curse-induced coma. The Death Eater backlash after Voldemort's downfall had been severe – none of those wizards had ever expected their leader to lose, and now they were facing Azkaban – and Ginny was one of many casualties, though thankfully the only one that hit so close to home. Hermione still visited once a week, but it was always the same. Even Mrs. Weasley had begun to accept that her only daughter was not going to return to them, and Hermione was sure that was as definite a sign as any.

There were other things, of course. Harry would practically disappear for weeks at a time, and no one was ever sure if it was Auror business or simply an inability to face the family in light of Ginny's condition. Fred and George's business had nearly gone under several times in the face of Ministry-imposed tariffs on some of the rarer – and sometimes the not-so-rare – components for their best-selling products. There had been a whole slew of Ministry proclamations that had affected them all, at least indirectly. But these things were impossible to connect to a date or time, so Hermione couldn't use them to determine the point she'd become so disenchanted with "family" dinners. No, she'd simply come to accept that life, as she knew it, would never be the same. And she wasn't sure sometimes if life was even worth bothering anymore.

But she knew she'd go on, if for no other reason than to support the people she loved. She would go to the Burrow every Sunday night and hope to see a smile, a glimmer of hope. She would send Harry an owl twice a week, no matter if she received a reply or not. She would buy something from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes just to boost the twins' morale, even if she simply chucked the item upon returning home. If her friends could find some semblance of happiness, then she'd help them get there. Then maybe her existence wouldn't be completely useless.

Hermione checked her reflection, sighing loudly at the sight of her pale face and bushy hair. This was the same face that greeted her every day, but it never failed to annoy her all the same. She supposed she should be comforted by the fact that it hadn't changed, unlike the rest of her life, but deep down she supposed that she'd been hoping adulthood would change _something_ for the better.

She smoothed down her robes, checked that she had her wand, then disapparated. She knocked on the Weasley's front door, and it opened almost immediately.

"Oh dear, I told you that you're perfectly welcome to come right in," said Molly Weasley, ushering Hermione into the house. "Everyone else does."

"Everyone else" would mean Harry, and of course he apparated directly into the living room. He had been – still was, she supposed – engaged to their daughter. He was as good as family. But Hermione, well, she was just a family friend. Once she had hoped to become a part of it, but that dream had long since vanished.

She gave a little wave to the sea of redheads that greeted her, but was surprised at the extra face she found among them. "Harry?" she said, unable to conceal her surprise. "I didn't know you were going to be here today. Last I heard you were going to Slovakia."

"Change of plans," Harry said simply. He pointed to the door that led into the kitchen.

Another non-Weasley stuck his head out. "Oh good, Hermione," said Remus Lupin, an anxious smile on his face. "You've arrived. I'll just be a moment. I need to get this owl off to Nymphadora."

Hermione sat on the couch next to Harry, and he at least attempted to return the smile she gave him. "There's bad news?" she asked.

"Hermione, dear, such pessimism doesn't become you," said Mrs. Weasley, but she was perched neatly on the edge of her chair with the rest of the family rather than rushing around cooking, doing chores, or dictating her family's chores. That was sign enough.

"The bad news always comes in this room, Mum," said Fred, who was smiling nonetheless. "But no one's died, at least."

"Fred!"

"He's right, Mum," said Ron. He held up the cup he'd been cradling in his lap. "Lupin never lets you make tea first when someone's died, because of that time you almost hexed him for making you drop Aunt Muriel's teapot."

Hermione nodded. "We always get the good news during supper."

"Usually after I've had my first helping of pudding," added Harry.

Mrs. Weasley let out an exasperated sigh. "You make it sound like plays in a Quidditch match or some such nonsense."

"Why do you think Bill and Fleur never come to Sunday dinner anymore?" said Ron. "Oh, that's right. I think it was around the time Lupin told us about Ministry proclamation number two hundred and seventy-two, when half-breeds were forbidden from marrying. He actually _made_ you make the tea that time."

"Your brother is not a werewolf, Ronald. You knew very well that he passed every test—"

"Ah, but the Ministry still won't let them have children now, will they?" Ron pressed. Hermione watched the cup in his hand begin to tremble slightly more with every increase in the volume of his voice. "Luna says it doesn't matter how many incentives they give for witches and wizards to marry and have kids. She has to turn away people every day who want their contraceptive charm lifted."

For all the witch's faults, Hermione did have to admire the effect Luna had had on Ron. She supposed it was one bit of proof that Luna was more fit for Ron than Hermione would ever be: not once did Ron ever get so worked up over S.P.E.W. or any of her other crusades, but all Luna had to do was dispute a two knut charge on their monthly floo bill, and he was at her side with words for her case. And as an apprentice healer in the maternity ward at St. Mungo's, Luna had plenty to say about current Ministry policy on the repopulation of the wizarding world.

"They simply haven't passed their waiting period," Mrs. Weasley was saying. "After all, it was only enacted eight months ago…."

"Molly," Mr. Weasley spoke up. "It's only going to get worse before it gets better."

"No Ministry regulation will come between me and grandchildren!" Mrs. Weasley screeched. She waggled her finger at each person around the room. "Mark my words, I expect at least two grandchildren from each one of you. That goes for you two as well."

The fury with which Mrs. Weasley was pointing her finger at her and Harry reminded Hermione so much of Ginny that it brought tears to her eyes. She brushed them away, hoping no one else noticed. She had promised herself that the tears were over, as much for herself as everyone else who regularly gathered there. But evidently she wasn't the only one having those thoughts, as Harry reached over and squeezed her hand once, and then let go. She couldn't look up at him.

"Well, look at it this way, Mum," said Fred, still smiling that blasted smile. "At least Bill didn't have to use the _Official Ministry of Magic Matchmaking Program_ to find himself a wife." He enunciated the words in such a way that he sounded just like the adverts in the Daily Prophet. "At least this way, when it's all straightened out, you'll already know what kind of grandchildren you'll get out of it."

He caught Hermione's gaze with the last sentence and rolled his eyes. It was just the lift her spirits had needed from her moment of gloom, but she stifled the giggle for Mrs. Weasley's sake. Fleur's predicament was unjust – Ron could argue for that point for several more hours, she knew – but the witch _had_ been an absolute nightmare when discussing the proper way to bring up a child…none of which happened to coincide with the techniques used in the very home in which her husband had been raised. And the re-enactment of that particular conversation, which usually involved George playing the enraged Mrs. Weasley, had become a favourite amongst the siblings.

"No son of mine would need such an idiotic—" Mrs. Weasley started, giving an eye roll of her own.

"I beg to differ," said George, shooting his twin a glare. "The beauty of the program is not so much that it finds one a wife, but that it doesn't have to."

"What are you on about?" said Ron, looking suspiciously between his two brothers.

"George's been taking out a new witch every day for two weeks," said Fred. He chuckled. "Well, except that one. What was her name? Lorena? I guess she technically counted for two days, since she didn't leave the flat till the next morning."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, but Fred seemed to think the reaction he got from the family made the declaration even funnier, as he collapsed into laughter. Next to him, George's face was bright red, but he was still smiling.

"It's simple, really," said George when his brother had finally stopped laughing at his expense. Hermione noticed that he was carefully avoiding Mrs. Weasley's gaze, as his mother had her eyes narrowed and her mouth poised half-open with a readied response. "If it's so important to them to marry off eligible purebloods to a worthy partner that they're willing to set us up, pay subsidies for the dates, guarantee satisfaction—" He winked at Fred. "—Then I will make sure I take out every eligible witch in Britain and still not find a wife. By then I'll either have run the Ministry out of money, or they will have changed the laws. Either way, I'll get some free dates out of it."

Mrs. Weasley's mouth closed, her face twisting in confusion. Apparently there wasn't nearly the fault in her son's plan that she had intended to find. Hermione had to admit George wasn't as dumb as his pranks sometimes made him appear. In fact, this almost sounded like a whole new breed of prank. She was surprised she hadn't heard him bragging about it before then. Still, she was glad she wasn't "eligible" to participate, since Muggle-borns were somehow inferior to the rest of the wizarding population.

"I'm sorry, everyone," said Remus, coming out of the kitchen at last. Hermione had almost forgotten they were waiting on him. Nerves made her stomach do a little flop. "I had half the note written out before all the letters jumbled themselves up. I had to start on a fresh piece of parchment."

Fred and George exchanged guilty looks, but said nothing. Not that anyone would have assumed that, for instance, Harry had replaced Mrs. Weasley stock of notepaper with _No, Nonsense Parchment_. It was the twins' first new product since getting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes back in the black a few months ago. Hermione flashed them a quick smile, which they both returned. They had asked for her assistance in perfecting the complicated charms on the paper, and she had to admit it was an ingenious bit of work. All it took was the appropriate password incantation – assignable by the paper's purchaser – and the words would shift back to their normal state; it would have been ideal for the Order's use during the war, if only they'd developed it sooner.

"Is everything all right, Remus?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Then she amended, "With Tonks?"

"Better than all right, actually," he replied, smiling widely. Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding and exchanged a look with Harry. Good news? "You were absolutely right, Molly. The metamorphmagus blood is letting us disguise his parentage quite nicely."

"A boy? Oh Remus, that's wonderful!" Mrs. Weasley leapt from her seat to envelope the man in a tight hug. Congratulations sounded from all around the room.

"Nymphadora said Charlie was brilliant," Remus said when he finally managed to extract himself from the woman's grasp. He conjured up an extra armchair and took a seat. "With him there and Luna to push the paperwork through, well, it looks like we're in the clear for now. Tell her I said thanks again when you see her tonight, Ron."

"Charlie?" asked Hermione. She knew that Tonks' pregnancy had been a constant worry for the couple since they found out about it a couple of months earlier. They'd had to hide the fact that the two of them were even together at all, much less procreating. She did not know, however, what the elder Weasley child had to do with Ministry-required natal health screenings.

"Ron didn't tell you?" said Mrs. Weasley, smiling with pride. "Charlie is pretending to be the baby's father. He and Tonks have been friends for ages, you know. It was the best shot they had."

"Oh, that's wonderful," said Hermione. She didn't bother to add that she and Ron rarely spoke outside these dinners. Ever since he and Luna had gotten married…. It was the same with Harry. She knew she should try harder. But with all of their schedules being so different and the constant thought that Ginny would never join them again, it was just too much for any of them.

Really, she had more contact with Fred and George than anyone these days, and that was merely because her patronage of their shop had caused them to return the favour by dragging her out to the Leaky Cauldron a couple of nights a week. Hermione's office, where she spent all day translating ancient runes, was just down the alley from the twins' shop, and that made her convenient for kidnapping. After a couple of glasses of wine, she even usually stopped protesting too much.

"Unfortunately," Remus said, running a hand over his face, "that's not the main reason I wanted to talk to everyone tonight, and to Hermione in particular. Kingsley's managed to get me some information on the next proclamation that's to go before the Wizengamot sometime next week."

Hermione felt her blood go cold, practically stopping her heart's beating in her chest. They had all known it was coming, but a tiny part of her had hoped that all the little laws and the gradual build-up had really been nothing, and that they were imagining the eventual consequences. "The Muggle-born registration," she said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley drew in a loud, sharp breath, but Remus simply nodded. "It's bad, I'm afraid. They're expecting it to pass without a lot of resistance."

"Without a lot of resistance!" Hermione said with sudden force. She felt tears prickling at her eyes for the second time that night. "Has the world gone mad? Do they not know that nearly half the wizarding population is made up of first generation witches and wizards?"

"That's exactly what's got them scared, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. He reached out for his wife's hand, and she let him take it. "The pureblood lines are rapidly decreasing. The statistics show a rise in the number of squib births over the last twenty years—"

"That's bollocks," said Ron. "Luna says the data set is completely faulty. Or something like that."

"_We_ know that, Ron," his father said calmly. "But the rest of the country is scared. Add in the high number of pureblood Death Eaters serving life sentences in Azkaban, and you've got a population that, on paper, looks ready to die out in a generation or two. To the average citizen, laws mean order. Order means safety. We've just come out of a war. They needed _something_, and Bertrau has given it to them."

Leonid Bertrau was the man who had succeeded Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister for Magic after the latter's death near the end of Voldemort's reign of terror. The former Wizengamot prosecution solicitor seemed to be trying to make up for the inaction of his predecessors by doing ten times more than necessary. It all made Hermione wish Cornelius Fudge were back in office; at least that man had only made Harry look the fool, not marry one and have fool children.

"Go on, Remus," Harry said quietly. He looked at Hermione before adding, "There's more, isn't there?"

Remus nodded. "The proclamation includes all the things we expected – wand seizure, a test that's designed to fail its subject, employment cessation. But there's one thing we didn't expect."

He silently locked eyes with Hermione for a moment. There was something there, something that told her he didn't want to say what he was about to, but that it wasn't in him to withhold the information from her either. Taking a deep breath, she nodded for him to continue.

"There's a loophole," he said.

"Oh, but that's—" started Mrs. Weasley.

"I didn't say it was a good loophole, Molly," interrupted Remus. "It's dangerous, and it wouldn't be easy."

"Remus, I was standing next to Harry when he cast the spell that took down Voldemort," said Hermione in a carefully controlled voice. "Whatever it is, I think I can handle it."

"You would need to get married before the law passes," her former professor said. He looked at Mr. Weasley then explained, "Bertrau's son is married to a Muggle-born witch. He's built into the proclamation an exception for any who are married to half or purebloods. You would still have to release your wand for a six-month waiting period, and you wouldn't be able to work for that time either, but there's none of the rigorous testing at all. Kingsley thinks the waiting period itself is just for an appearance of consistency, nothing more."

"That's it?" said Hermione with a strangled laugh. "I just have to find a husband this week? Maybe I'll just head down to the Ministry with George tomorrow and scope out the bachelors." She felt her words coming out in more and more frantic tones, but she couldn't stop herself talking. "In fact, George, have you got anyone lined up for tomorrow night? Maybe I'll just be your unofficial next eligible bachelorette."

"Hermione…" started Ron. "I hardly think George—"

"Don't 'Hermione' me, Ronald!" Hermione shouted back. "You've already chosen your spouse. I'm perfectly capable of choosing mine without your help!"

"Dear, I think you need to calm down," said Mrs. Weasley carefully, rising a little out of her seat.

"Calm down? How can I possibly calm down?" Everyone in the room began offering their suggestions all at once. It was all Hermione could do to keep from passing out from the sheer pressure of it all. The proclamation, the voices, Harry's hand wrapped around hers….

"Me." Harry said it so softly that Hermione barely heard him, but somehow every Weasley in the house immediately stopped talking to stare in their direction.

"What?" said Hermione. "What are you talking about?"

"Me, Hermione," he repeated. "I think you should marry me."

* * *

Author's Note: 

I hope you like this new story! Don't worry; I'm not abandoning the others. This plot bunny was just hopping around begging for attention, so I had to oblige. This is my personal challenge to write a story using some fan fiction clichéd plotlines in a way that didn't come out as cliché. I hope it works!

Also, be on the lookout for the How to Date George Weasley. This companion story will follow George as he takes advantage of the Ministry's free dating service for eligible bachelor wizards. It will be the humour to balance out the seriousness of this story. Look for the first chapter sometime in the next week. I'll be alternating posting these two, but still hope to get a chapter of each every week. (Keep your fingers crossed for me…that'll be about 10,000 words of fan fic to write every week – phew!)


	2. Hard Choices

Chapter Two

Hard Choices

"No, Harry," said Hermione, her voice dropping to a more normal volume. "Do you realize how crazy this all is?"

"Surely there's another way, Remus?" said Mrs. Weasley.

The wizard shook his head. Hermione felt overheated, like the sun was beating down on her in the middle of August, despite the cool November weather outside. She had the sudden urge to vomit all over the carpet and instead put her head between her knees. She felt the couch cushions shift and then Harry's hand on hers. He was kneeling in front of her.

"We can break things off as soon as the political climate changes," he said, brushing the hair out of her face as she looked up at him. "But right now it's the only way to make sure you're safe. I won't let them take away your wand for good."

"But what about you?" Hermione asked, staring into the face only inches from hers. "I can't do that to you."

Harry moved his hand off of hers to run it through his hair. "I won't be able to put them off forever, Hermione. They want me married off so badly they can taste it. And I can't do that to Ginny. I just can't."

Hermione was surprised at how suddenly the lump that had been forming in her throat erupted into quiet, shaky tears. When had things become so complicated? After Voldemort died, she thought the world had taken a turn for the better. But now she looked back on the war as one of the happier times in her life. There was something so profoundly sad at that thought that she thought her chest might explode from the aching she felt there.

"I can't be here right now, can't think about this," Hermione said finally, rising to her feet. She looked at Remus, knowing that his eyes would be the least likely to invoke more tears. "I'm sorry."

She turned on her heel and disapparated. It wasn't a smart thing to do when upset, but right now she could care less if she splinched herself. When she looked up, she was surprised to see that she was not back in her flat as she had expected, but standing just inside the door of the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione pushed the door slightly ajar with the intention of walking the rest of the way home when something stopped her. Turning back toward the room, she looked into the back corner and saw her usual table, empty and inviting. Sighing, she let the door swing back closed. If she had ever needed an excuse to drink, she certainly had one today.

She was only a little surprised when Fred and George found her there half an hour later, tears pouring down her face and a half-empty beer cupped in her hands.

"You never drink beer," said Fred, just standing there staring at her. "You said it tastes like dirty dishwater."

Hermione shrugged but let go of her death grip on the glass. "Fits my mood."

The two of them sat down in their usual formation, one on either side of her. She laid her head on George's shoulder, and a little of the anguish of her mind seemed to flow away. She hadn't really ever realized exactly how comfortable she felt here. How many months had they been coming here? No agenda, no real plans…just a few acquaintances spending lonely evenings with each other instead of at home.

Harry and Ron were her best friends; she had always called them that. But Fred and George had been there for her more in the last year than anyone else, hadn't they? She wasn't sure why she'd never let herself see that.

"You know either one of us would gladly marry you instead," said George, shifting just enough to encourage her to lift her head.

Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "I know you would, you fool. But then I couldn't continue to make fun of your dating adventures."

"You're pissed I didn't tell you," said George. It wasn't a question. Maybe she'd been hanging around them a little _too_ much.

"I only would have made fun of you a little, you know," she answered. Then she shrugged. "Now you're fair game."

Fred flagged down a barmaid and ordered firewhiskeys and a glass of red wine to replace her lukewarm beer. They didn't speak for a while, just sat there and contemplated their beverages. Hermione felt warmer, and her head was pleasantly fuzzy. Just enough to dull the reality of her situation, keep it from overpowering her.

"Do you think I'd be crazy to go along with it? Or just crazy to refuse?" she asked. Watching the look the twins were exchanging, she wasn't sure whether she actually wanted to hear the answer to that question or not.

"Well, look at it this way," said George. "What is marriage, really, but some official's signature on a piece of paper that says you're legally attached to someone else?"

Fred nodded his agreement. "It's like having an official roommate."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help chuckling a little. "Such romantics. Merlin, it's a good thing I've got Harry so I wouldn't be forced to marry one of you two."

"Did I mention roommate with _benefits_?" Fred added, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Doubly glad I've got Harry!" Hermione said, miming a retch. Then she considered those words for half a second before she all the sudden felt like she might actually vomit for the second time in only an hour and a half. She looked at the twins, eyes wide. "You don't think he expects…."

"Well, Mum did say she wants grandchildren," said George, grinning slyly. "And two apiece means you and Harry better get started on your four pretty soon."

Hermione hit him in the arm. Hard. "Oh no. I'm barely starting to get comfortable with the idea of being married to him in name only. Don't even think about planting that idea in your mother's head. I mean, I can't have _sex_ with Harry! He's…he's…."

"The most eligible wizard on the planet?" said Fred.

"Wealthier than all the rest of us combined?" added George.

"_The Boy Who Lived_?" they said in unison, voices dripping with overplayed admiration. Fred sighed dreamily.

"My _friend_!" she exclaimed. She rubbed her face, trying to get all the sudden, forceful mental pictures she was seeing out of her head. Then she heard chuckling beside her. She turned to see both twins red-faced and trying to stifle their amusement, but at her look they both burst into gales of laughter. "I'm so glad someone finds all this amusing. You wouldn't be laughing if one of you had to marry him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione," said Fred. "I don't think the Ministry would look too kindly on Harry and I adopting. It would kind of defeat the purpose of perpetuating the bloodlines."

"I think the idea of you bearing children is enough to make a Ministry official run screaming anyway," George said. "Don't worry, though. I'll have a few extra and let you pretend they're yours." He patted his twin on the arm in playful consolation.

Hermione felt the tears prickling at her eyes again. She tried to focus her attention on her glass rather than the playful bickering of the brothers beside her, but she couldn't tune them out, and that only made the feeling more intense. It wasn't until she let out a shuddering sob that they noticed her long enough to stop their banter.

"Hey, you," said Fred, pulling her over to him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "The thought of me having children isn't _that_ bad, is it?"

She cried harder, curling up against him.

"Whoa, shh…." Fred sounded surprised at the force with which she was sobbing against his chest, but she couldn't stop herself. She felt comforted by his arms around her, but at the same time it made her think on what she would lose by marrying Harry, and that fed her grief. "What's the matter, babe? You're scaring us here."

Hermione concentrated on getting a hold on herself, and after a few minutes she managed to pull away. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the wet spot on Fred's sweater when she said, "It's just…I always pictured myself being a Weasley. Having little ginger-haired Weasley babies. Spending Christmas at the Burrow with no walking space because your mum got her wish and there are sixteen grandchildren running around. Oh, I feel so stupid."

"Hey, it's not stupid," said George, rubbing a comforting hand on her back. "You'll always be a Weasley, whether you have the name or not. The same with Harry."

She finally managed to look up at them, sniffling a little more at the smiles she received. Merlin, they really were some of the best men on the planet, weren't they?

"And you can have my ginger-haired babies anytime you want," added Fred, looking her up and down suggestively.

She couldn't help but laugh. The heavy feeling in her chest lifted a little, and she could almost see things working out, for the first time all evening. She threw a few galleons on the table, then stood. "I need to get back to the Burrow."

"We'll give you a little while before we come back," said George.

Hermione hugged them both, even managed to smile when she did it.

"And keep in mind my offer," said Fred, a broad smile plastered on his face. He puffed up his chest importantly. "If you need me to show you a thing or two about how to keep your man happy, you know where I'll be. After all, no point in letting Harry steal your maidenhood when there's a perfectly good Weasley available."

She patted him on the head and gave him a sly smile. "Whoever said I was a virgin?"

Hermione turned on her heel and left him staring at her open-mouthed. This time she apparated directly into the living room—she wasn't going to be a Weasley, but she was going to be the next best thing, dammit. Mr. Weasley looked up at her with momentary shock, but then he smiled over his copy of the Daily Prophet.

"The others are finishing up dinner," he said.

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley and Ron walked back into the room, Ron's mouth stuffed so full he could barely chew. The woman practically launched herself at Hermione. "Oh dear, I was so worried." She gave Hermione an appraising look. "You're half-starved, child. Come have some supper."

Hermione had to smile. Only Mrs. Weasley could look at someone who'd eaten two full meals that day and call her "half-staved." She shook her head. "I'm okay, really. I'm not sure I could eat anything right now, though."

The woman opened her mouth to protest, but then Remus and Harry came out of the kitchen. The older adults exchanged significant looks that they obviously didn't think Hermione would notice. Harry didn't smile, but he immediately pulled her into a hug.

"Look, I thought about it, and you're right," he said. His voice was quiet, but so was everyone else in the room. "You can go into hiding. We can keep you safe and just wait for this whole thing to blow over. Didn't you say you had some cousins in America—?"

Hermione stopped him by holding up a hand. "I can't live my life like that, Harry. It could be years before the changes we need are enacted. And I'd rather live too close for comfort than permanently estranged from everyone I love."

Harry looked suddenly confused, and she found that simple fact to be terribly endearing. "Wait, what?"

"You realize this has to look real, don't you?" said Remus.

Hermione's mind leapt back to the discussion she'd had with Fred and George, and she wasn't fond of the images she found there. Harry was one of her oldest, dearest friends, but could she pretend to be in love with him? Even if it was just in public? She wasn't sure, but the alternatives weren't looking very promising. She looked at him and said, "I understand, Remus."

The man continued. "We all know the truth, but no one else can. You both still have enemies out there who'd love to see Hermione's wand snapped and Harry in Azkaban, so you can't give anyone a reason to turn you in for evading the Muggleborn Registration Proclamation."

At that moment, there was a loud "pop," and Charlie Weasley was standing in the middle of the room. Hermione hadn't seen him since right after Ginny had gotten hurt, but he hadn't changed much in a year and a half. Still, she was oddly struck with exactly how much he resembled the twins, both in his build and the lopsided grin he wore. He was more tanned, and she saw at least one burn scar peaking out from the edge of his winter cloak, but the likeness was there. She supposed it was simply that she hadn't really spent much time around Fred and George until lately.

"Oh good, you're still here, Remus," said Charlie. Then he added, "Hi Mum, everyone."

"Is Nymphadora back home?" Remus asked with the eagerness of a teenager.

Hermione had to smile at his seamless shift between businesslike underground activist and loving husband. No, _not_ husband, she realized. Suddenly, she grasped what George had been not so eloquently trying to say earlier. That marriage, in the Ministry sense, was really just about paperwork. Laws, proclamations…that was what the government was all about. But the true matters of the heart, that was still in their hands. Remus and Tonks had proved that much. She was still unbelievably angry that politics had robbed the population of such a symbolic gesture as marriage, but also relieved to recognize that the title didn't _have_ to mean anything. She didn't like her position any more, but it might help her live with it. For now.

Charlie nodded. "I've been sent to retrieve you. Just a bit of warning, though. Don't suggest 'Reginald Archibald' as a baby name, even if you're just joking. Her Stinging Hexes are really painful." As if to illustrate, he rubbed his backside.

Remus laughed heartily. "I'll try and keep that in mind."

Hermione looked back at Harry, whose gaze had not left her face even to acknowledge Charlie's presence. His eyes searched hers for a moment, and then he said, "Are we going to do this, then?"

She swallowed, trying to resist the urge to look away. There was something in Harry's face that simultaneously scared her and gave her the reassurance to go on. "Yes, Harry. I will marry you."

Mrs. Weasley let out a muted squeal of delight, no doubt because a wedding of any sort, falsified or not, would give her an outlet for her mothering. Hermione turned toward the family, surprised at the warmth she felt crawling into her cheeks. Smiles greeted her all around. Why was everyone so pleased? They knew this marriage would be nothing but a temporary barrier against more unpleasant things.

Harry's expression was exactly the same as it always was lately, which was to say there was practically no discernable expression except for a vague sadness. It was comforting; he, at least, understood what they were about to do. She was sure Remus was aware as well – how could he not be, considering his own predicament – so she forgave his wide grin and chalked it up to his impending meeting with his lover. Hermione did feel the urge to give Ron a scathing glare for his satisfied smile, but she managed to restrain herself.

The only other person in the room who wasn't smiling was Charlie. His jaw was hanging open. "Did I _miss_ something?"

* * *

Author's Note:

First, for those of you who might have read chapter 1 before 8/10/07, the main ship of this story has changed. I originally intended this to be Fred/Hermione. However, while I was writing this 2nd chapter, I discovered that Charlie had snuck his way into chapter 1, even though I hadn't intended to have him in this story at all (or to have Tonks be pregnant…oh the glory of unexpected plotlines!). It was just too much for me to ignore, and when I realized Charlie/Hermione would be an interesting pairing to try and tackle, BOOM. This story became a lot more complicated even than I'd planned. (Plot bunnies have a tendency to do that to me, I've discovered.)

So sorry for those of you looking for a Fred story, but I hope you'll continue reading anyway. The twins will still be pretty major secondary characters, and I think Charlie will turn out to be equally as deserving of Hermione. If not, well, I'm saddened, but you can always pop over to my author page and try out _**Essence of Love**_. That one is Fred/Hermione to stay (and I posted chapter 5 just last night).

Also, _**How to Date George Weasley **_chapter 1 is about halfway done, and it will be posted before chapter 3 of this one (as that's where it falls chronologically). I'd originally thought I'd post it after chapter 1, but I needed to make Harry and Hermione's marriage official first. ;)


	3. Wedding Bells

Chapter Three

Wedding Bells

**_HARRY POTTER MARRIES WAR HEROINE_**

_Elsbeth Garman_

_In a country devastated by war, many of those left to pick up the pieces have considered it a lost cause. Even without the marks of dark wizards in the sky, the war's death count and the continuing decline in birth rates have taken their toll. Where is a saviour when we need one?_

_In short, is Harry Potter prepared to help us once again?_

_Apparently so, if the wizard's surprise announcement Monday of his impending marriage is any indication. Today, he is set to marry his long-time best friend and fellow war hero, Hermione Granger, in a small private ceremony. Sources close to the couple say that the match is a surprise to even them. But closer inspection of the situation reveals his possible motivations._

_Potter's former fiancé, Ginevra Weasley, has been a patient in the Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for a year and a half, the victim of a Death Eater attack at the end of the war that left her in a coma. As a result, many of the hero's closest friends thought he would never marry._

"_Harry was devastated," says Seamus Finnegan, Potter's friend and former Hogwarts roommate. "None of us expected him to ever recover."_

_Mr. Potter himself seemed to agree. In a rare interview last spring, just after the incident, he stated, "Ginny is my one love. I only pray she'll come back to me soon."_

_It appears this sudden change of heart may be the result of recent pressure exerted by the Ministry of Magic for young wizards to marry and start families. They have even begun to offer incentives – from none of which the wealthy young Potter has elected to draw benefit – to entice the growth of our greatly decreased population. Has Harry Potter once again decided to sacrifice his own life for the benefit of many?_

_Other sources disagree._

"_Harry and Hermione have always loved one another," says Ronald Weasley, the other best friend of the famous trio, also brother to Mr. Potter's former fiancé. "It's just a shame Gin had to get hurt for them to decide to get married."_

_Is it true love at last or just one final effort to assist his society in finding its footing? Either way, these wedding bells are cause for celebration. "The Boy Who Lived" is all grown up, and we hope he's now "The Man Who Loves."_

* * *

Hermione laid her copy of the Daily Prophet down on the vanity in front of her, then turned to her friend. "I mean, really! We've 'always loved one another?' What were you thinking?" 

"Are you done yet?" Ron asked, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I'm only here because Harry sent me. And I didn't lie! You and Harry do love one another. I just didn't say _how_ you loved one another. I had to say _something_."

Hermione sighed and reached up to rub her face, but then stopped short. Mrs. Weasley would probably kill her if she had to redo the bride's makeup one more time. "I suppose you're right. Maybe it will make everything seem more believable." She paused and offered him a small smile as a peace offering of sorts, adding, "Harry sent you?"

Ron nodded, "He wanted me to give you this."

She reached out, and he dropped a small object into her hand. It was a ring. And not just any ring: an absolutely gorgeous diamond engagement ring. There was nothing particularly special about it – she'd seen similar on the fingers of many of her former classmates or their fiancés – and she knew that Harry's _real_ engagement ring, his mother's, was still at St. Mungo's on Ginny's finger. Still, it was a really nice ring, and she smiled in spite of herself.

"He figured it might look funny if you didn't have one," said Ron, apparently oblivious to the thoughts that were going through her head. All the better.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, sliding it onto the proper finger. She stood up, carefully disentangling her voluminous skirts of her wedding dress from where they'd been draped around her stool to avoid wrinkling. She smoothed the simple bodice with one hand. It wasn't exactly what she would have chosen for her real wedding – or this one, if she'd had more time for planning – but, like the ring, it was really nice.

"I best get back," said Ron, grimacing as if the sight of her standing in front of him actually looking like a girl was the most terrifying things on the planet.

Hermione didn't even more to stop him. The last thing she needed was to dwell on Ron. She had much more pressing things: like the fact that she was marrying Harry Potter in less than an hour, and she had to pretend she really wanted to.

It had only been three days since Remus brought them the news. Everything had moved so fast that she could barely even remember the plans being made. Supposedly she and Harry had been engaged for months, hiding it from their friends because of Ginny. And their supposed plans had to be pulled together from nothingness. The dress was Fleur's, with alterations made to keep it from being obvious. All of the wedding's attendants were male, and they would each wear their best dress robes. Mrs. Weasley would handle the food, and the ceremony would be held at the Burrow.

It was all just a little _too_ simple. It had kept the reality from really setting in too fast, which she'd considered a blessing until that moment. Now Hermione was standing in her wedding dress, alone in Ginny's bedroom, _without_ Ginny, with makeup that was sure to smudge if she cried again…. She felt the urge to run, but since she could barely walk at all in the shoes she'd also borrowed from Fleur, she opted for the next best thing and stuck her head out into the hallway.

Charlie was coming up the stairs. He smiled at her. "You'd better not let Mum see you out of that room. You know it's bad luck for the bride and groom to see one another before the wedding."

"I think I've already reached my quota of bad luck," she said dryly. "Have you seen Fred or George?"

He pointed behind him at nowhere in particular and shrugged. "I just saw Ron, though. Do you want me to grab him?"

"Oh yeah, so he can make me feel even more inadequate. I'll pass, thanks."

"Whoever said you were…" Charlie started. Then suddenly he stopped and looked at her. Under his scrutiny, Hermione felt almost like some freakish creature in Hagrid's class waiting to be poked and prodded. This was fitting, she supposed, since Charlie made his living working with Hagrid's favourite creatures of all. He looked over his shoulder, back at her, and then he said, "My brother's an idiot."

"What do you—?"

"I just hope you don't hold it against the rest of us," Charlie continued, striding up the final few stairs to the landing. He reached over her shoulder and pushed the door open the rest of the way. He was close enough that she could see the thin little scar that snaked its way down the side of his neck and into the collar of his robes. This one didn't appear to have been made by a burn, and she found herself wondering exactly _how_ dangerous his daily work was. Her eyes snapped back up to his face when he said, "Let's get you back in here before Mum flips, and I'll go find Fred and George."

Hermione went back into the room and sat obediently on her stool while Charlie did his best to arrange her skirts for her. He was being so sweet about it that she didn't have the heart to tell him he was only making a mess of them. She watched him silently, allowing a little smile to come to her face; the dragon tamer reduced to bride's maid, how droll.

"Charlie?" she said, when he had stood to go. When he looked back at her questioningly, she asked, "Do _you_ think I'm crazy?"

He reached out and ran his hand down the side of her face, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. It was a quick motion, but Hermione was surprised at the little shiver that ran down her spine. "I think that sometimes circumstances are beyond our control, and we have to take the first path that looks navigable. No one can blame you for that, especially not me."

He didn't linger, and, as promised, the twins came shortly after. It seemed odd to her just how much their energy could calm her. That serenity only lasted a blissful few minutes, though, because Mrs. Weasley returned with her parents. They'd been upset at the late notice about her marriage – about her having a boyfriend at all, much less one with whom she was that serious – but Hermione had decided she couldn't risk telling them the truth. If her parents acted on their outrage, it could ruin her chances at pulling off this ruse. And she was committed now – nothing would stand between her and her wand.

When it came time for her to walk down the aisle, Hermione once again felt the urge to bolt; Harry's idea to go hide out with her cousins in America wasn't sounding so bad. But she knew there were hundreds of people waiting anxiously for her. After all, she was marrying the most famous wizard in the world, save Merlin himself. And her dad did look awfully proud holding his only daughter on his arm.

But it wasn't the thought of any of that that kept her walking. No, she walked down that aisle thinking only of Ginny. For the first time in ages, she thought she detected a hint of genuineness in Harry's smile, and she knew he was thinking it, too. She managed to take his offered hand with only a tiny tremble in her own.

They'd elected to be married by a representative from the Department of Witch and Wizard Services and had chosen the shortest possible personalized ceremony, under the guise of simply being desperately in love and wanting to be married as quickly as possible. Thankfully, that had all been handled by owl, and they hadn't had to _show_ their desperation. Their opportunity to physically profess their "love" came faster than Hermione would have liked, despite also being anxious to get it over with.

"Harry James Potter, you stand before the witch who is the Golden Snitch in the Quidditch game of your life, the core of your heart's wand, the mate of your soul. Will you stand by her, in magic and in body, for as long as you have breath?"

"I'll stand by her as long as she needs me," said Harry quietly, slipping a simple band onto her ring finger. Hermione doubted that anyone else but the ceremony's officiator could hear him, and the man didn't seem to be paying much attention anything other than reading his lines.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you stand before the wizard who is the key ingredient in the love potion of your life, the rarest book in your heart's library, the mate of your soul. Will you stand by him, in magic and in body, for as long as you have breath?"

She didn't even try to smile or keep from crying. No one would think it out of character; all the brides she'd ever known had cried at their weddings. Well, except for Luna, but no one would ever argue she was a normal witch, not even Ron. She slipped his ring onto his finger and, through her tears, said, "I'll stand by him as long as he'll have me."

"According to Section Seven of the Proclamation Governing the Union of Witches and Wizards, and by the authority bestowed upon me by the Wizengamot and Leonid Bertrau, Minister for Magic, I would like to announce to all witnesses Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter."

A loud cheer went through the crowd, and flashbulbs started going off continuously, but Hermione barely noticed. All she could see was Harry's face slowly bending down to meet hers. He only paused for a moment, somehow communicating through his eyes that he _understood_, and then he kissed her. There were no fireworks, but her brain didn't implode either. She had to admit it wasn't bad. It had been awhile since she'd been kissed, and she didn't mind it so much if she made herself forget who was doing the kissing.

It was surreal the number of people they had to greet as husband and wife. Their small private gathering had turned into a social and political affair without them realizing it. They wouldn't have stopped it if they'd known anyway – the more people they had convinced it was real, the better – but it was disorienting to expect a hundred people and get nearly a thousand. Hermione wasn't sure how they all managed to squeeze into the Burrow's yard, though she suspected Bill and Charlie of stealthily employing some very clever charm work as they roamed the edges of the party tent.

Hermione held Harry's hand the whole time, partially for show and partially out of a fear of having to converse with any of the Ministry officials on her own. What if the men and women asked probing questions about their relationship? They'd barely had time to plan a wedding, much less lay out the details of their supposed yearlong courtship. They'd memorised a few key dates, of course, but allowing closer examination at this point would not have been prudent.

"Where will you be living?" asked a witch who appeared to be a reporter, her quill raised expectantly above a notepad.

"In Hermione's flat," Harry answered easily, grinning widely. Merlin, was he a good actor. "We're in the process of remodelling my home to make it more suitable for a family than a bachelor."

"So you're planning on starting a family soon?" jumped in another nearby newsman. His words were loud enough that others turned to look at them as well. Mrs. Weasley – who had picked up on even the hint of _babies_ from half the tent away – looked positively ecstatic through her evident shock.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm. "We aren't planning on any children right now," she said carefully, looking up at Harry for support. He simply nodded at her words, but she could tell the question had thrown him as well. "We have our careers to consider, of course. And when we _do_ decide to go that direction," she added pointedly, "rest assured that we will not be discussing it with you first."

That comment got a few chuckles, and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The crowd was starting to thin out as everyone either left for the evening or headed farther into the tent where the food and drinks were housed. Hermione thought she saw Fred, or maybe it was George, following the flock of reporters as they went to find a table, but she decided to pretend she hadn't.

Harry drew her into a hug and whispered in her ear, "You're doing great. Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you, Harry," she whispered back. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't—"

"I'll always be here," he interrupted, placing one hand on either side of her face. He bent and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Whatever it takes to keep you safe."

"All right there, lovebirds," said Ron, looking greatly amused at the moment he'd just witnessed.

Luna smiled at both of them. "I'm so glad the Crimping Damphlies stayed away. That would have ruined your wedding for certain."

Hermione smiled back and hugged the witch, despite being suddenly in the mood to hex something large and red haired. Ron moved in to get a hug, and she didn't stop him. He was her best friend, after all, despite the last couple years' worth of awkward footing.

"Good thing I was already taken," he whispered, his voice still edged with humour. "Else you might have had to marry me, and you know we'd have killed each other. At least you and Harry can be _civil_." On the last word, he pulled back and winked at her.

"Oh look, Ron," said Luna, pointing to the other end of the tent. "There's Marta Ellington."

As the two waved at the newly married couple and retreated, Hermione couldn't even offer them a smile in return. She felt frozen, rooted to the spot, which thankfully was no longer surrounded by family or friends or reporters – no one but Harry. He looked at her strangely, but she barely noticed. All she could think about were Ron's words.

"Hermione?" said Harry.

This time, she actually followed her first instinct. She ran.

* * *

Author's Note: 

I'm so pleased with how well this story is going (not to mention _Essence of Love_, which just hit chapter 6!) that I've decided to postpone _How to Date George Weasley_ until I can devote better attention to it. No reason to spread myself too thin if the stories will suffer because of it. It's still out there on the horizon, but perhaps it will end up being more like a sequel than a companion story. ;)

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I absolutely ADORE Charlie. I'm so glad I changed this ship. Charlie doesn't get nearly enough love. Be ready for more Charlie goodness in the next chapter….


	4. Two Frauds

Chapter Four

Two Frauds

Hermione made it to the house and into the bathroom but didn't even have time to cast a silencing charm or check to see that the door was properly closed before she burst into tears. She sank to the floor.

Ron was so bloody oblivious! How could he not know the effect he had on her? The thought made her cry even harder. How could he _still_ have that kind of effect on her after all of these years? What was wrong with her that she could fancy herself in love with her best friend – _the wrong best friend_, she thought bitterly – even years after she'd found out he was never going to think of her that way?

"The bride isn't supposed to be crying anything but tears of joy on her wedding day," said a voice from the doorway.

"Leave me alone, Charlie," she managed to say through her sobs, not quite looking up at him.

"Well, I would," he said, stepping into the room, "But I've been sent to retrieve you. Someone's going to notice things are amiss if you're gone from your own wedding for too long."

"I can't go back out there," Hermione said, swiping angrily at the tears that wouldn't stop falling.

She heard the door click closed and before she knew it, Charlie was sitting on the floor in front of her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I feel stupid enough already. It's worse if you see me like this."

He touched her chin and gently tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. She wanted to turn away again, to shout at him to just go away, but there was something in his eyes that stopped her. He grabbed both of her hands and held them in her lap. "Playing house really isn't so bad as it might seem," he said.

She shook her head, sniffling a little even as she began to get herself under control. "Aren't there things in your life you're missing out on, Charlie? Being away from your dragons? Your girlfriend? How do you handle it all?"

Charlie laughed a little. The sound echoed somewhat in the small room, making it seem as if there were more than one of him. "It's hard to miss things that aren't there."

"Oh, so you're just doing this for a fun challenge?" Hermione asked. She hoped her words came out with an edge of humour rather than bitterness. She really didn't want to imply that he wasn't helping Tonks and Remus simply because he was a good guy, but she also had a hard time believing that it wasn't a sacrifice for him.

"Before you know it, all this will be a memory. And then you can look back and think how funny it was that you and I were chatting in my parents' bathroom instead of hanging out downstairs where the liquor and dancing is."

Hermione wanted to retort that she was definitely not a liquor and dancing sort of girl, but from the look on his face, he already knew that. She laughed shortly and squeezed his hands, but just as quickly the frown overtook her face again. "But how long will that be? A year? Ten years? What happens when Tonks has her baby and suddenly it has your last name and thinks you're its dad? Will we have to keep up appearances for so long that every bit of our normal lives is gone forever?"

Charlie looked down at their hands. "Actually, the plan is for Tonks and I to have an amicable split-up after the baby comes," he said, voice dropping.

"So you'll never have to get married," she said dully.

"Hermione, I didn't come here to rub that into your face."

He started to stand, but she stopped him with a slight tug of her hand. "Don't go," she said softly. "I don't blame you for having an out. I wish there was one for Harry. He shouldn't be stuck seeing me through this. I'm not exactly the most fun to be around these days," she added with a watery smile.

"Harry is doing this because he loves you," Charlie said, his voice much stronger and firmer than before. "Don't you _ever_ think you're a hardship on him. I mean it. Speaking strictly from the other side of the fence."

"But what if he came into this thinking surely the Ministry will turn around in a year, but it really takes much longer? What if he comes to resent me for it?"

Charlie stood up and pulled her with him. He didn't move away or let go of her hands, and Hermione was suddenly very conscious of how close they were. She found herself looking at that same scar on his neck she'd noticed earlier. The neck of his robes was unbuttoned now, and she could see the scar travelled down his neck and kept going for as far as she could see. Exactly how long _was_ that scar? And how had he gotten it?

"There are some of us who are going to make sure it doesn't take that long," he said softly. At her surprised look, he said, "What? You thought Remus was the only wizard in the world motivated enough to work toward change?"

"No, it's not that," Hermione said quickly. Why was there a slight tinge of hurt in his voice? "I just…what about your dragons? How are you able to keep up with it all?"

"They aren't _my dragons_ anymore," Charlie said, breaking eye contact. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, watching its movement back and forth, but the tone of his voice made her doubt he realized what he was doing. "I'm working for the Ministry now, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"But why—," she started.

"Because that's where I need to be right now," he said, then immediately looked back at her with a smile. He dropped her hands and took a step back, pulling the door open. "Speaking of which, you have a party to attend, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione didn't move. "Charlie, I don't think I can."

"Tonks was my best friend back at Hogwarts," he said, still holding the door. "Now I have to kiss her in front of the father of her child. If I can do that, you can do this. We're two frauds of a kind," he added with a grin. "Just remember, when you _do_ act the part, act it doubly well. That way you don't have to do it as often."

All she could do was nod, take a deep breath, and walk out the door. She felt him come up behind her, leading her hesitant steps with a hand on the small of her back. It wasn't until she got a little farther down the hall that she really remembered whom she wanted to avoid. She stopped suddenly, causing Charlie to bump into her.

"What is it?" His mouth was right next to her ear.

"I don't think I can face him," she said quietly, the tremble back in her voice._ I'm not going to cry again_, she told herself. _He's not worth it_.

"Harry?" Charlie asked.

"No, Ron," Hermione said, voice barely a whisper. She turned to face him. They were so close she could practically hear his heartbeat. If anyone were to come in the house and see them…. "I know it's foolish, but—"

He stopped her with a hand on her cheek. "Love is never foolish, Hermione. Not in any of its forms. It's scary and dangerous and hurtful, but never foolish."

She smiled up at him, desperately struggling to keep the tears that were forming from slipping down her cheeks. "Who'd have ever thought the dragon tamer was a romantic?"

"Well, Gin had to get it from somewhere, didn't she?" Charlie said and kissed her on the forehead. "That's not the only thing she learned from me, either. She'd be superbly impressed by the spectacle we're about to put on."

Hermione found herself being led down the stairs again. "And what spectacle is that?"

His grin widened, and he put an extra few inches between them as they came back out of the house. "Just follow my lead."

Tonks saw them first. "Wotcher, Charlie! I was wondering where you'd got off too."

He crossed the last distance between himself and his false fiancé and pulled her into a searing embrace. Hermione had to blink a few times. His fingers were entwined in her bubblegum pink hair, hers positioned just above his hips. If she hadn't known better, she would have believed the two of them were honestly together. A little wave of jealousy passed over her; she knew it wasn't real, but was it so bad to hope for that some day?

The reminder of why she didn't have much of that hope rushed up to her within seconds. Harry tried to make it look nonchalant, but she knew him well enough to tell he was really worried. "Is everything okay?" he asked when he reached her. He glanced at the still interlocked couple, then back at her.

"It's fine," she said, loud enough that anyone near them would hear. "You know how the bathroom door sticks sometimes. It's a good thing Charlie found me when he did, or I might have been in there all night."

Harry nodded. Looking at him, Hermione, despite her better judgement, decided Charlie might just be right. Who cared about Ron? She had a show to put on. She leaned in and kissed Harry firmly on the lips. To his credit, he managed to shift his shock to a fake smile within half a second, and then returned the embrace. Hermione closed her eyes and did her best to imagine she was kissing someone else.

When they pulled apart, Hermione glanced to her right to see that Tonks and Charlie were watching them, both grinning. Charlie winked at her.

"Think we can find an empty table?" asked Tonks, resting a hand on her belly. Hermione could barely detect the slightest bump to indicate the woman was pregnant. An outsider would probably have assumed it was a little extra weight. "I don't think the little one is so fond of the cake, no offence to your mum's cooking, of course."

The four of them found a table with enough empty seats, and Hermione suspected that Remus, who was already seated there, had somehow charmed the chairs so that no one else would be able to sit. Either that or there were simply too many Ministry officials who were scared to sit with a werewolf who'd been so vocal against current Ministry policy, which was a distinct possibility. She was glad to see that Ron and Luna had instead opted for the dance floor and sat with her back to it.

"So what are the honeymoon plans, you two?" asked Charlie as he scooted Tonks' chair in for her.

Hermione felt a little twinge of disappointment when he didn't sit next to her, then immediately felt ridiculous. She knew she'd been a lot of things in her life – bossy, a know-it-all, a stickler for rules – but she'd never been needy. She hated how vulnerable this whole situation made her feel, and it wasn't fair for her to expect Charlie to continue being an outlet for that. She'd been lucky to have his support at all. It wasn't as if they'd exactly been friends before this week. He was Ron's older brother; that was all.

"Well, we're only going to have time for a short one," said Harry, looking over at her. "A last minute mission popped up, and I've got to leave Saturday morning. So we're just going to enjoy some time alone at home until then."

"Remember?" said Tonks. She patted Charlie on the knee, but looked pointedly at Remus. "I told you he'd be with me. So there's no need to worry."

"You're still working in the field?" asked Hermione in disbelief.

"Thank you, Hermione," Remus and Charlie said simultaneously. Anyone who knew their situations but not actually the men themselves might expect nasty glares to be exchanged. Instead, the two merely acknowledged each other's superb opinions with a nod.

"I'm sixteen weeks pregnant, not sixteen weeks dying," said Tonks sharply. "And it's not like I'm facing Voldemort himself. I'm heading up communications this time around. Harry and Dirk are doing the real leg work."

They spent a long while debating the ethics of allowing a pregnant Auror on dangerous missions, and the guys didn't end up liking Hermione's opinion as much as they'd originally thought they had. They went onto other subjects. Eventually Fred and George joined them, as the crowd started to fade away and their pickings of witches for dancing became thinner. There was pleasant conversation all around, and she found herself feeling less and less worried about her future. Maybe being married to Harry for all the wrong reasons wouldn't be as hard as she thought. Not while she had these kinds of friends around.

It was Mrs. Weasley who finally shooed the last of them off, stating very firmly for anyone who could hear that she was _sure_ the newlyweds wanted some time to themselves. Hermione blushed fiercely, but she certainly couldn't argue. Of course a newly married couple would want to get away. She was thankful that all she had to look forward to on _her_ wedding night was a warm gown and her own bed. Alone.

As she and Harry were about to apparate away amidst a shower of Weasleys' Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs, Charlie caught her eye. For that moment, all he did was smile at her, and she felt something very similar to those pointed looks Harry had been giving her all week: Charlie understood.

When they appeared in her flat, Hermione found she actually had a smile on her face. No, Charlie was right. Surely playing house wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Author's Note:

This story is so vivid for me lately that I can't help myself. So here's a present for you, dear readers – a new chapter a mere four days later! And, oh boy, things are about to get good. More Charlie/Hermione goodness is on its way very soon.

In the meantime, check out my other stories, all of which will be updated in the next couple of days. Thanks for all your wonderful reviews!


	5. First Date

Chapter Five

First Date

Hermione wasn't surprised when she had received the owl Sunday night saying Harry's mission had gone a little longer than planned. Now it was Monday, and he was set to return to the office that morning and still be stuck there most of the day. She also wasn't a bit upset, as she had plenty to occupy her. Rearranging her flat to accommodate him had only taken part of a day – Harry still wasn't accustomed to keeping a lot of "stuff," even several years after leaving his aunt and uncle's for good – but it had put her in the mood for an entire overhaul of the place. After all, she'd already quit her job ("for my husband" was a lot less humiliating than "because of the Muggle-born Registration Proclamation"), so she had to do _something_.

The "honeymoon" had been uneventful by anyone's standards. Hermione felt lucky simply to have a semblance of control over her own life again, after the week she'd just put behind her. Harry was pretty easy to live with, especially considering he'd been uprooted at the last minute. He wasn't exactly neat, but she supposed a little bit of mess about would seal the appearance of their new life together. Even her bedroom had become prey to a slow infestation of his few belongings; _he_ was staying in the guest room, but everything else was in hers.

Now all that was left was some occasional "maintenance" to keep up their deception. She had taken Charlie's words to heart and was determined to make every held hand and awkward kiss look like the most earnest declaration of true love. Today would be the first test of her abilities, and she had to admit a small sense of exhilaration. It was silly, she knew, but it was like a secret mission, only without the danger. Well, there was the small danger of prison if they were found out, but she'd been at Harry's side while they tracked down bits of a dark wizard's soul: this was nothing.

She didn't even want to admit it to herself, but she was feeling happier than she had in years when she pulled on one of her nicer sets of robes after a long, hot shower. She was going to waltz right into the Ministry of Magic as if she didn't have a problem in the world with their shortsighted policies and downright idiotic bureaucratic errors. She might even whistle a jaunty Muggle tune, not that they would recognize one. And then she was going to march right into the Auror offices and surprise her husband with a sound snogging and a lunch date. If she was lucky, she might even get a smile out of him.

Hermione flooed into the main entrance atrium of the Ministry to the same bustling crowds of people she'd encountered in her other visits. She'd come to visit Harry or Ron, or both, several times when they had first started working there two years ago—Ron in the Department of Magical Games and Sports—but it had been a long while. She focused on making her way through the throngs of rushing people rather than on the wave of regret that stole over her. Those early days had been good, but too much had changed since then to ever be able to go back.

The Auror offices were on level two, and Hermione navigated the path with ease, making an effort to greet every single official she passed—especially the ones who looked like they didn't want to talk to anyone. She was almost to her destination when she raised her eyes for another random greeting and instead saw Charlie come down the hall toward her. The bright smile he provoked faded as soon as she saw the urgency with which he was rushing at her. He didn't even seem to notice she was standing there looking at him.

"Charlie, what's wrong?" she asked, fear suddenly flooding her veins. Had something gone wrong on the mission? Was someone in his family hurt? Had—her heart almost stopped beating at the thought—had Ginny finally succumbed to the curse that had threatened to take her life these many months?

He stopped, looked at her, _then_ seemed to realize who she was. He pulled her into a quick hug but soon was rushing her back the way she'd just come. "It's Tonks. They've rushed her to St. Mungo's."

"But what— the baby?" Hermione asked. Panic rose in her chest as their pace quickened.

"I don't know," said Charlie, and his tone made her feel suddenly guilty that she'd actually felt a split second of relief. Nothing was wrong with Harry or Ron or Ginny. But even though Charlie wasn't really Tonks's fiancé, or even the baby's father, his anguish was certainly just as real as it would have been for his own family members. "I just got here. The secretary said she'd tried to send me an emergency memo, but I was out of my office on a call."

"And Harry?"

"He's the one who took her in."

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the floo port, but the travel time was as efficient as was its design, and they were standing in the lobby of St. Mungo's only seconds later. Charlie immediately rushed up the receptionist, but Hermione hung back and scanned the room for familiar faces. Many faces stared back at her or blankly at the walls or at one another, but none that were familiar to her.

Her heart clenched suddenly at the realization of the one face she would not find there: Remus Lupin. His soul mate and his child were—if Charlie's attitude were any indication—in a life-threatening situation, yet the man would not be able to be there without causing them further peril. He and Tonks would be arrested, the baby taken away from them…all because of the prejudices of a select group of individuals whose antiquated views on the proper order of things had been implemented to rule other peoples' lives.

If it took fewer than three grown wizards to keep Remus from coming anyway, she would have been surprised.

Charlie was still gesturing wildly, now to a scared looking young healer. Finally, he motioned for Hermione to come over. "They've got her stabilized," he said, pulling her into a hug. He whispered his words against her hair. "They're both okay, and they said I can go back now. Can you get word back to him?"

They both knew whom he meant. And the sheer lack of a Weasley presence at the hospital meant that either they hadn't been notified or Hermione's estimate of three had been low. She was leaning toward the latter. Placing her mouth near Charlie's ear, she whispered back, "She's lucky to have you."

He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter at those words, and she felt him draw a couple of long, shaky breaths. When he pulled away, he was smiling softly. Without another word, he turned and followed the healer through a set of double doors. Moments later, Harry rushed out.

"I tried to floo you," he said, brushing her lips with an obligatory kiss. "I was worried."

"I think you've had more than enough worry for one day to add me to that list," said Hermione, taking his hand as they headed for the apparition point. "Let's go alleviate it for the others, and you can tell us what happened."

They apparated onto the front steps of Number 12 Grimmauld Place and had barely cracked the door before they heard the yelling.

"Remus, be reasonable!" came Mrs. Weasley's unmistakable mothering tone, albeit several notches above the one she usually used when Fred and George were up to no good.

"Molly, you said to give them five more minutes, and I have," growled Remus. Hermione could sense the barely controlled rage beneath the measured words. In that voice, a Ministry official would hear a werewolf just waiting to manifest and wreak havoc; she only heard a man trying so desperately not to lose his mind to grief that he could sound no other way.

"She's alright, Remus," said Harry breathlessly as they rushed into the room.

"They," Hermione corrected, at the waiting father's choked breath. "Charlie said they were _both_ okay."

Mrs. Weasley put an arm around Remus's shoulders, and he didn't shrug it off. She looked rather pleased at this.

Harry knelt in front of the man. "He's very sick," he said quietly. "Things improved exponentially in the first half hour, but I don't want to give the false impression that your son is out of the woods quite yet. But Tonks, she—she told me to tell you—"

"It's alright, Harry," said Remus in a voice that sounded soothing compared to only moments before. "I think I know Nymphadora well enough to know almost _exactly_ what she said. What happened?"

Hermione glanced to her right and saw Fred and George patting the empty couch cushion between them. If it hadn't been such a serious moment for the family, she would have been fully on her guard against a carefully orchestrated prank. As it was, she simply allowed them to sandwich her into a hug without a single sound of protest.

"I knew something was wrong before we even left on Saturday," started Harry, claiming an empty dining chair. He turned it around and sat backwards, leaning his torso against the intricately carved chair back. "She's a good liar, though, so when she told me it was just 'one of those pregnancy things,' I believed her."

Remus nodded as if this was a common discussion for the couple. Hermione snuggled up against George's chest as his arm draped over her shoulder and stretched her feet into Fred's lap. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in their direction, but said nothing. Hermione shook her head in silent amusement; she was sure the older witch still had her heart set on getting some grandchildren out of her and Harry, regardless of the nature of their marriage. After all, she was practically getting one out of Charlie, wasn't she?

"Tonks didn't realize that something was _really_ wrong until this morning. We were debriefing with Kingsley and she just doubled over. I thought for a second she'd tripped, but when she didn't laugh…."

"What did the healers say, Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"I think I'm done with drama for awhile," Hermione whispered to George as Harry gave what few details he had—which was to say he didn't know any details, but that Charlie was expecting them at St. Mungo's as soon as they could get there.

"It could be worse," he whispered back.

She turned and glared at him. "What could possibly be worse than Tonks' baby being in danger?"

George placed his lips right next to her ear. "You could be the one having the baby."

"Right, we should get back," said Hermione, jumping away from George as if he'd bitten her. He only laughed.

After taking a few minutes for Mrs. Weasley to concede that it had been long enough now for Remus to show up as a family friend, the entire group apparated to the hospital. Hermione saw the same healer from earlier look up at them warily, but when she stood to come "handle" them, she was stopped by a familiar face.

"Luna, dear!" greeted Mrs. Weasley in a frantic tone as she drew the witch into a hug. "Have you seen Charlie? How's my grandbaby?"

"Yes and better, Mum," replied Luna. Hermione smiled and shook her head. It was amazing how a woman prone to day dreamy eyes and fantastic—_outrageous, ridiculous, hilarious_, added a little voice inside her head—beliefs could present herself so professionally when in her niche. "Healer Madeira is speaking with Dora and Charlie right now. A few at a time will be able to go back and see her soon."

"And Ron?" Mrs. Weasley continued.

"He dropped by, but I sent him back to the office," her daughter-in-law answered with a small smile. "He's going to stop in after work."

"Good."

Luna glanced around then, her gaze stopping on each of her co-workers before she faced them again. "Remus, I've been meaning to consult you on my final project," she said, giving him a significant look. "I'm working to determine the perfect recipe of chocolate for an additive in various potions. You know, to enhance a person's mood. I seem to remember you were quite knowledgeable on the subject. Would you mind taking a look at my notes while you're waiting?"

"I would be delighted," Remus answered softly, and the two went though the double doors into the ward, not even pausing to say anything to the family.

"Such a sweet girl," said Mrs. Weasley. "Come now. Let's try and find a place to sit."

As the others moved, Hermione stood there staring after Remus and Luna. She knew full well—as did the others—that Luna had finished her final Healer Trainee project several weeks ago and was just waiting to be assigned her presentation time. So she had just walked boldly back there to let Remus—the half-breed, the werewolf—see his lover and unborn child, despite the trouble she could be in if found out. That was certainly a bit of Gryffindor bravery coming from the Ravenclaw. No doubt the witch also had a clever backup plan in case anyone questioned Remus's presence.

Hermione bit her lip. She had always _liked_ Luna, but when had she really begun to _appreciate_ her? Because she was suddenly staring after her friend—yes, Luna was definitely a friend—and for the first time thinking about how lucky _Ron_ was to have his wife rather than the other way around. She had to turn away to hid the grin that came to her face.

She jumped a little when arms wrapped around her from behind, but then she relaxed into the embrace. She should have known Harry wouldn't leave her alone with her thoughts for long.

"I'm glad you're back," said a voice into her ear.

"Charlie!" Hermione yelped. She pulled out of his grasp and turned to face him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't look a bit sorry at all. The tension that had contorted his features when she been here with him before had lessened considerably. "Tonks and I want to talk to you."

"Me?" She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion. "But what about…?" she asked, gesturing to his waiting family.

"I have a proposal for you." At her raised eyebrow, he gave her an exasperated glare. "A favour to ask."

"Why would I do you a favour?" Hermione asked, putting her hands on her hips.

He closed the distance between them to a mere fraction of an inch. Any closer would have been indecent for two friends in a public place. Under his breath, he said, "Because you'll get to see more of me."

Then he winked and stepped away. It was all Hermione could do to restrain herself from punching him in the chest. After all, they were in a hospital; it wouldn't hurt for long. But what restrained her as she followed him back, shooting an apologetic glance at the rest of the Weasleys, was the thought that had popped into her head:

She _did_ want to see more of Charlie Weasley—and she sure as hell didn't know what that meant.


	6. Companionship

Chapter Six

Companionship

"This is ridiculous," Tonks repeated from her lounge spot. She was nestled in a pile of more pillows than should be humanly possible for one bed. "No offence, Hermione"

"None taken," replied Hermione, trying her best to hide a smile. It was the expectant mother's first day back home from St. Mungo's, which meant it was also Hermione's first day as her "companion," as the two women had dubbed it. The healers didn't think Tonks should be alone and risk another incident like Monday's going untreated, and Remus and Charlie had rightly guessed that Hermione would jump at the chance to occupy herself during the period she was unable to hold a legal job.

"Nymphadora, you know why things have to be this way," said Remus soothingly. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, stroking today's defiantly fiery red hair.

"I know, love," she said softly before adding in a sharper tone, "but you try being bloody ordered to bloody bed rest for bloody six weeks and see how you like it!"

Charlie came into the room, his travelling cloak slung over his shoulder. "I think the point is for you to _rest_," he said, his voice edged with humour.

Remus cut off Tonks's retort with a quick peck on the lips. "I've got to get going. Try not to give Hermione too hard a time, alright?"

"You rest, and I'll have breakfast up in the next hour or so," said Hermione, not giving the temporary invalid a chance to answer before following the men out of the room. As soon as the door had closed, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" ask Charlie, looking at Remus.

The other man simply shrugged as he stepped over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "I don't know, mate, but I don't envy either one of you today. Take care of my darlings," he said to Hermione. Then he threw down the powder and said firmly, "Ministry of Magic!"

"You going to let me in on the secret?" Charlie asked the still-laughing woman in front of him, after Remus had gone. One eyebrow was cocked upward, but so was the edge of his mouth.

Hermione patted him on the arm and then started into the kitchen. "Just the whole ridiculous situation is all. If you'd asked me a few years ago where I'd be now, I sure as hell wouldn't have said here." She started pulling items out of the cabinets. "Are you staying for breakfast?"

He shook his head, and reached up to help her grab a dish that was just out of her reach. Their hands brushed, and Hermione felt warmth travel from that spot to every other inch of her body. "I just need to fill you in on some minor details, and then I've got to get to work."

She set the dish on the counter next to them, reluctantly taking a few steps away from him to gather a few other things. Her robe caught on the edge of the white china bowl, and it slid a couple of inches and toppled to the floor, shattering into hundreds of small pieces. "Oh, shite," she mumbled. Looking up at Charlie with playful reproach, she said, "Weren't you a seeker back at Hogwarts? What happened to your reflexes?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, hastily bending to scoop all the pieces into a relatively concise pile. He waved his wand over them. "_Reparo_."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but only reached down to take the dish from him and then continued her breakfast preparations. "Alright, so I'm ready for my orientation," she said, breaking a few eggs into the newly whole bowl.

"Well, mostly you just need to know that I comforted her after her break-up with Remus," Charlie said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He squinted at her strangely for a second, and then continued, "Sexual tension leftover from our Hogwarts days kindled itself into love, and voila."

"That sounds pretty simple. I haven't really been around either of you enough to know more than that, so it should be easier that way," she said, watching him carefully. It was as if all the energy he'd displayed to her in the past had been sucked from his body. "Are you okay? You look tired."

"I feel bloody shagged," he replied, massaging his temples. "Sorry," he muttered, as if just remembering to whom he was speaking, "it's been a long couple of days."

"You look like you're in worse need of a lie in than Tonks," said Hermione. She put a hand on his arm. "You aren't ill, are you?"

"No, I'll be fine." He gave her a half-hearted grin. "Why, you looking to play nursemaid to two?"

She laughed, running her fingers down his arm where they brushed his palm and then disconnected. She went back to her food preparations. "No, but I can't resist a damsel in distress," she said, grinning.

"Damsel, eh?" Charlie said, his voice tinged with something she didn't quite recognize.

"A helpless one," she joked without looking up. The corners of her mouth quivered and then turned up in a smile. It was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing.

Before Hermione knew what was happening, he had grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. His grip on her was firm, but not painful. On the contrary, the tingle she'd felt a few moments earlier seemed to re-ignite and intensify. There were still inches between them, but it was like an electrical charge running through a completed circuit, and the distance didn't seem to matter. All that mattered in that moment were the dark eyes staring down at her, daring her to tease him again.

Charlie's lips parted as if to speak, but then shut again. He swallowed, and when he did finally speak, the words were low and gravely. "Do I look like I need rescuing?"

"No," she whispered, unsure if she could trust her voice to say anything else. Her mind tried to focus on what was happening, to make sense of the vibrations that were coursing through her body, but then his hand was on her cheek, thumb drawing a line back and forth at the edge of her mouth, and she was lost again.

He closed the distance between them, pressing his body against hers. Her back, in turn, was pressed against the counter, and she put one hand up on it to brace herself. Too late, she realized her hand had gone right where the bowl of eggs was sitting, and it crashed off the other side of the counter, once again shattering on the floor.

"At this rate, Tonks is never going to get any breakfast," Charlie said, his smiling eyes darting down to her lips, then back up. He ran his thumb slowly across her cheek one more time before stepping away to retrieve the bowl.

While he was hidden on the other side of the kitchen island, Hermione took a couple of deep breaths to stop her mind's racing and then scrambled to retrieve some more eggs. What was she thinking? She definitely couldn't deny that she was inexplicably drawn to Charlie after his kind attentions to her lately, and unlike his younger brother, Charlie didn't seem to be oblivious to this attraction. But what her mind hadn't told her until that moment was how completely impossible it would be for her to have any sort of relationship with the man. After all, she was a married woman now, however temporary. And when Charlie's tenure as Tonks's fiancé was finished, what would stop him from heading back to Romania and the dragons he loved so much? No, there was nothing wrong with some innocent flirting, but it had to stop there.

Apparently his mind had taken similar steps of logic, because when Charlie stood up holding the mended, albeit egg-covered bowl, his face showed none of the primal hunger he'd displayed only moments before. Then again, he barely met her eyes. He set the bowl on the counter next to the new one where she was furiously stirring. He lingered next to her for a moment, looking down at her thoroughly beaten eggs, before moving back to retrieve his travelling cloak from the couch.

He cleared his throat, and then said, "I'd better get to work. Remus will probably be unreachable most of the day, but if you need anything, just send Calypso. She may not look it, but she's the fastest, most reliable owl I've ever seen."

Hermione nodded, looking up at him. For a split second she thought she glimpsed that _other_ Charlie, but it was gone before she could even be sure of it at all. "I will. Don't worry. She's going to be fine."

He started to take a step forward, then seemed to think better of it. "I know. I'll see you after work."

Only after he was gone did she allow herself to stop stirring and lean onto the counter, one head in her hand. Merlin, that wizard was trouble.

She managed to get breakfast finished without breaking any other dishes, and took it on a tray into the bedroom to find Tonks very much awake. "Sorry it took so long. I had some issues."

"I heard some crashing noises," said Tonks, looking amused. "Quick shag on the kitchen table before Charlie left for work?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"Wouldn't be the first time for it, that's for sure," Tonks continued, oblivious to her companion's reaction. When she did notice it, she added, "With Remus, of course. Not Charlie. Blimey, never Charlie. But I don't mind you two getting some use out of it as well."

"Tonks, Charlie and I aren't—"

"No reason to be shy, you know," said Tonks, digging into the ham and cheese omelette. "_He's_ never been shy about his conquests, and with the way he undresses you with his eyes—this is good."

"There's nothing going on," said Hermione firmly. She felt heat rising in her cheeks, and not just out of embarrassment. "Did he say something? About us? Because if he's been fabricating some tale…."

Tonks stopped eating for a moment to look up at her thoughtfully. "Well, no, he never did. I just thought—well, just ignore me then. Except for the last two weeks, we haven't really seen much of each other in the last nine years. I guess I've just gotten rusty at reading him."

After another couple of bites, Tonks pushed the plate away from her and rubbed a hand across her stomach.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione. She jumped up and grabbed the tray out of the woman's lap.

"I'm fine," said Tonks with a little laugh. "Just pregnant. Still queasy sometimes." At Hermione's look, she added in a more serious tone, "I know Remus told you I don't like to gripe when I'm not feeling good, and he's right. But I know now...well, just trust me when I say I won't hide anything from you."

Hermione shook her head, smiling. She sat at the foot of the bed. " I don't know how you do it. With everything that's happened to you, you still manage to keep a good attitude."

"Oh, I don't know," said Tonks, settling father back into her cushions. "It hasn't all been so bad. Well, being subjected to a paternity test was rather humiliating, but the rest is okay. I still get to see Remus just as much as I would have anyway, and now I have the added bonus of having Charlie around again."

"I was really surprised that he was here," said Hermione. "From the way Ron always talked, I never thought he'd give up his career for anything, even temporarily. Especially after Ginny."

"Well, something made him give it up," said Tonks, "and it sure wasn't me. I was as shocked as you when he volunteered for this gig. I was afraid I'd have to go with my second choices." She made a face.

"Oh, don't tell me," said Hermione, laughing. "Who jumped at the chance? Fred or George?"

Tonks laughed with her. "Both, actually. Harry volunteered, too, you know."

"Harry?"

"He's a gentleman, that one," said Tonks. "But a bit young for me."

"Seven years isn't really that much once you hit your twenties," said Hermione without thinking.

Tonks giggled. "I knew it!" When Hermione tried to get a word in, she said, "Now I'm wondering if I should have taken Harry up on it, and then you could have had Charlie all for yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Hermione, her lips set firmly in a line, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "And being married to Harry's not too bad. He's never home anyway. Always away on a mission."

The other witch shook her head. "He lets you think that, but work doesn't keep him nearly as busy as it used to."

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "Then what's he doing?"

Tonks sighed deeply, the humour fading completely from her face. "Sits in that damned hospital room under that bloody cloak of his."

"You mean—he's visiting Ginny?"

"It's not healthy, if you ask me. But don't let on that I told you. He'll never admit to it anyway. But if you can do anything to get his mind out of that pit of despair, it won't be a moment too soon."

When Hermione had agreed to marry Harry, she knew it was saving him from the pressure he received at work and from the media to settle down and start a family. And he was saving her from the possibility of having her wand taken forever. What she didn't fully realize is that Harry might just need more saving than she did, and Tonks's words were like a slap in the face. How could she have not noticed? Sure, he'd been withdrawn and sullen, but so had she. When had it gotten so bad?

"Oh, come on," said Tonks in a brighter tone. "We can't let those boys ruin our day. It's been ages since I've had a slumber party."

After awhile, Hermione found herself loosening up around Tonks. It had been a long time since she'd shared female companionship; once she got over the twinge of sadness this evoked, she started to enjoy herself. The demands of the job were minimal. It wasn't hard to make meals for two instead of one, and Tonks was perfectly capable of performing such tasks as walking to the bathroom all on her own. During frequent naptimes—as Tonks was easily exhausted, despite her every insistence that she was perfectly fine—Hermione found she could fill the time quite easily with cleaning and writing out shopping lists.

Hermione finally flooed home after only a painless five minute talk with Charlie. For once, she was glad he found his new work exhausting. She had a smile on her face and was looking forward to leftovers and the new book she'd received the night before. But when she stepped out of the fireplace, she was disturbed to hear loud voices coming from her kitchen. She had already reached for her wand before she recognized them. What was Harry doing home? And Remus? Her legs carried her closer to the voices, but something made her stop just outside the door.

"No, Remus!" Harry said. Hermione was surprised to hear the tone he was using; Remus was practically a father to him, and Harry was not usually the type to speak to a parent with that voice. "I won't do it! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Harry," said Remus, his voice soothing, but firm, "they slipped it in at the last minute. None of us knew."

"No, someone had to. There's no way I would have done this—"

"Do you really think I would have let you if I'd known?" Remus came back, and his words were much more tense this time. "They used the Registration Proclamation as a cover, didn't think anyone would notice their little addition."

"And they were right," spat Harry.

Hermione's chest clenched tightly, a big lump of something unpleasant sinking into her stomach. The law had passed today. In all of the busyness of the last week, she'd nearly forgotten the dreadful proclamation. There had been something added to it? What could the Wizengamot have passed that would invoke such a reaction in Harry? She gripped her wand a little tighter as if someone was going to descend on her and take it away that instant.

"They were right." Hermione could almost picture Remus nodding his head in concession. "Now, I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but under the circumstances—"

"Absolutely not." The venom in her husband's voice had increased tenfold. She pulled her hand back from where it had been about to push the door open. "Getting married was a convenient arrangement for both of us, and I was glad to do it for her. But you know as well as I do that Hermione is the last person in the world I could ever have sex with!"


	7. Shag Worthy

Chapter Seven

Shag Worthy

Without even thinking about it, Hermione pushed open the kitchen door. Immediately, Remus turned to her with a look of trepidation. He was seated at the kitchen table with an un-drunk cup of tea perched halfway to his mouth. Harry looked exactly like he sounded: he was pacing, hands stuck deep in the pockets of his Auror robes, and his face was contorted with a rage she hadn't seen in many years. There was a half-crumpled Daily Prophet in his hands.

Harry turned to her, and when he spoke, his words were more controlled, but anything but tame. "Oh good, you're home. You'll never guess what they expect us to do."

"I know what I expect you to do, Harry—stay the hell away from me!" Hermione screamed, one fist clenched tightly around her wand, the other flexing repeatedly. "What happened to 'whatever it takes to keep you safe'? Am I just that hideous that sleeping with me is so much worse than marrying me? Why do you even let yourself be seen in public with me?"

"Hermione—" started Remus, rising from his seat slightly.

"You stay out of this!" she snapped, then turned back to Harry. "Well?"

"What do you expect me to say?" This time his words had an edge of franticness, almost hysteria. He stopped pacing a few feet in front of her. "They can't force me to have sex with you just because they want to make sure our 'intent is to advance wizarding bloodlines.'" He threw the newspaper on the floor at her feet. "You aren't Ginny."

"Oh, I think that's abundantly clear," Hermione said with a sharp, cold laugh. "Hell, I can't even match up to Luna, so why would I even think I could compare to Ginny?"

"What does Luna have to do—?"

"Everything!" The tears were pouring down her face now, and she didn't even bother to try and hide them or wipe them away. "Do you think I need you to remind me how revolting I am? I don't know why I thought better of you."

"Hermione, don't be ridiculous. I love Ginny and you aren't her. It's as simple as that." Harry's expression was one of utter confusion, but it only fuelled her anger.

"Me, ridiculous?" she said, her words high-pitched. "If she's so bloody wonderful, then why don't you sleep with her?"

"That's not fair."

"What's not fair is that even a dead girl is preferable to me!"

Harry grabbed her arm roughly. She hadn't even seen him move. "Ginny is _not_ dead. Or have you abandoned her, too?"

Hermione locked eyes with him. "Abandoned? Oh, I'm terribly sorry I couldn't fit my wide open schedule in with your work and Ron's married life."

"You barely even speak to Ron anymore."

"He was the one who walked away from me, Harry," she said quietly, tears still sliding down her cheeks. Then she wrenched her arm away and disapparated.

This time the Leaky Cauldron was a very clear destination for her. Home wasn't an option, obviously, and the Burrow would provoke too many awkward questions. The pub was one of the few places in the world where she didn't feel worried about her future; there was just something about it that melted away her cares, or at least misplaced them for a couple of hours.

It was well after closing hours for the Diagon Alley shops, so she wasn't surprised to see both a pretty sizeable crowd and her favourite twins lounged in their usual place. They spotted her about halfway across the room, and both had grins that faded into identical frowns. She knew she must look terrible, or more so than usual. At least she'd managed to wipe most of the tears away before they saw her.

"So you've heard, then," said George as she sank down across from them.

Hermione opened her mouth to launch into a rant. She wanted nothing more than to lay into the Ministry, Harry, and anyone else she could find who needed reproach, but her previous argument seemed to have taken more out of her than she realized. She shook her head, sitting down across from them. "Only the basics. Can you fill me in?"

George picked up his copy of the evening edition of the Prophet and flipped to a spot near the centre. The paper always listed the changes in laws and regulations, so this was no exception. "They mucked up a lot this time around," he said as he handed it to her. "More heavy embargos on potion components."

"Mostly medical stuff, though," added Fred, "so nothing that affects us too much this time."

"Good," she said. When she looked down at the paper, her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't read it. She settled for laying it down on the table in front of her, but even then she found her eyes couldn't focus. She looked up. "Can you summarize for me?"

The two men exchanged a look, and she knew that any other time they probably would have teased her about actually not wanting to read. This time George just said, "It's just a tiny little clause at the end of the Registration Proclamation."

"That says in order for a previous marriage to exempt you from the law's requirements, you must show intent to advance wizarding bloodlines," said Fred. "Within the wand withholding period you have to submit to…an examination."

Hermione felt bile rising in her throat but tried to keep it back by taking several deep breaths. Her friends were watching her with matching looks of concern. "So in other words…."

"You have to prove you've slept with Harry," said Fred.

"Just when I thought maybe my life was going to calm down." She banged her head on the table. "I guess I was wrong when I thought it couldn't get any worse."

George reached a hand across the table and forced her to lift her head. When she looked up at him, he said, "At least they aren't forcing you to procreate yet."

"Yet?" Hermione yelled, loud enough to make a few of the other patrons turn to look at her. "It's bad enough that Harry and every other man is disgusted with the idea of sleeping with me! Imagine the reaction I'd get if they had to have a kid with me!"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Hermione?" said Fred, his mouth hanging open. "What moron wouldn't want to shag you?"

"Plenty of them," she mumbled. "I need a drink."

When she started to stand, Fred stopped her with a hand held up in front of her. "Not until you explain yourself. You said you weren't a virgin."

"I'm not," she said, rolling her eyes. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it does," input George. He leaned forward and pointed a finger at her. "Anyone who tells you're less than bloody gorgeous is off his trolley—or a liar."

Hermione offered them a tiny smile as she stood. "I appreciate the sentiment, boys, but forgive me for saying that if you knew what I do, you wouldn't be quite so sure."

She turned her back on what she was sure would be frowning faces, but she couldn't muster up the energy to pacify them with false bravado. She ordered a bottle of firewhiskey from the bar and tried to distract herself by fiddling with a copy of Witch Weekly someone had left behind. An elegant blonde witch graced the cover and shifted from one glamorous pose to another as if purposely mocking Hermione, who simply scowled and replaced the magazine facedown.

She received her liquor and had taken a few deep breaths to prepare herself to return to the conversation when Fred shouted loud enough for the whole place to hear. "Oi, Charlie! Perfect timing. You can help us with something."

Hermione turned around slowly. She knew there was practically a grimace on her face, but she couldn't help it. She scanned the room and found Charlie standing near the main door, his eyes finding hers only a second later. He raised an eyebrow at her as they waited for the inevitable; she knew the twins far too well by now to doubt where this conversation was going, and she was sure Charlie at least knew his brother was up to no good.

Fred continued, still not lowering his voice. "About Hermione. What do you think? Shag worthy?"

She knew her eyes widened, but other than that she tried her best to keep her physical reactions to the question to a minimum. Charlie was watching her too closely. But Mrs. Weasley be damned. Come morning, she was going to have one less son who was able to bear grandchildren.

Charlie, however, did not seem phased by the question. He smiled a slow, self-assured smile, never breaking away from her gaze. She felt as if her legs might no longer hold her when he said, "Oh yeah. Definitely."

Hermione couldn't move or breathe as she stood there, eyes locked with his. Was Tonks right? _Was_ Charlie undressing her with his eyes? She couldn't say for sure, but she did know that if he looked at her like that too much longer, she wouldn't be able to stop him if he tried with more than just his eyes. He walked closer, his smile softening with every step.

Then suddenly the spell was broken. He leaned on the bar next to her and got Tom's attention. "I need your biggest order of fish and chips." He winked at Hermione. "My fiancé has a craving."

Without a word, she went back to her table. Fred was trying his best to look innocent, but his halo was most definitely being held up by horns. She decided to leave his manhood intact another day, though. His mother could be a very formidable woman, and right now Hermione could certainly use that on her side. She was still planning on giving him a piece of her mind, but was delayed when she noticed both of her companions grinning widely. Then she felt a body slip into the seat next to her.

She definitely _felt_ Charlie sit down. It was bad enough that every nerve in her body prickled at just the scent of his daily Freshness Potion, but it was another thing entirely to feel his leg brush along her thigh as he shuffled in, and then to have it blatantly rest against hers as if he thought nothing of the contact. But it was his quirky smile that let her know Charlie Weasley knew exactly what he was doing, and there was no way she was going to let him get away with it—at least, not without a little taunting of her own.

"Not rushing back home tonight?" asked George with an obvious glance in Hermione's direction.

Charlie settled back in his chair, clasping a full glass of ale. His foot shifted a little and stopped only an inch shy of hers. "She only sends me out when she wants some alone time with Remus. I figure I've got a couple of hours." He took a long drink.

"So what do you think about the Ministry forcing Harry and I to consummate our marriage, Charlie?" she said in her sweetest possible voice. She could have done Dolores Umbridge proud.

Charlie nearly spit his ale all over the table. Instead, he merely choked and managed to hold his mouth closed with the back of his hand. "Apparently I missed something? Why am I always the last to know?"

"Oh well, you know how 'playing house' is," Hermione said as she filled a shot glass, "sometimes these things just happen." She downed the dark amber liquid and immediately launched into a coughing fit.

"Bloody hell, what are you drinking?" said Fred, grabbing the bottle to read the label. "Are you sure you should be sampling Ogden's finest at a time like this? You should save it for when you can really enjoy it."

"Like maybe when I need to forget I have to have sex with my best friend? Blissful ignorance sounds pretty damn enjoyable right now." She jerked the bottle out of his hand and poured another shot. This one didn't shock her quite so much going down, but the pungency of it still made her eyes water as she tried to keep herself composed.

George slammed his palms onto the table, causing Hermione to jump. "That's it! I'm brilliant! Why don't you sleep with someone else instead?"

She paused with the firewhiskey bottle tilted halfway up for pouring. "Surely they could tell."

"Do you know for sure?" asked George. He winked at her as finished another helping of her beverage. "Because I'd gladly sacrifice myself for the cause."

"No way, little brother. I offered first," said Fred. "Besides, what about all those eligible witches out there who already have your name inked on their calendar with little hearts drawn around it?"

"Oh, shite!" said George, leaping up from the table. "I nearly forgot. I have a date." He paused suddenly, and for a second she could read indecision in his eyes. He put his hands on the back of his vacated chair and leaned into the group again. His eyes locked with hers. "If you need me to stay, I will."

Hermione looked back at him for a moment but saw nothing except sincerity in his face. She immediately felt the tears coming to her eyes, and every effort she made to speak only increased the pressure on her tear ducts, so she finally just shook her head. George gave her a kiss on the cheek, walked to the door and disapparated.

She managed to swallow two more shots of firewhiskey in quick succession before a steady hand stopped her from pouring another. "Hey, I know you're upset, but be careful with that stuff," said Charlie as he gently pried the bottle from her hand.

"You'd help me if you could, wouldn't you Charlie?" Hermione asked, smiling up at him. A pleasant numbness was beginning to settle in her head, and she absentmindedly placed one hand on his arm to steady herself. When her hand connected with bare flesh, she realized it was the first time she'd seen him in anything other than his work or dress robes. The time of year merited leaving on the long sleeves in most places, but this pub always felt like several dozen fireplaces were blazing at once, one of the tidiest pieces of household charm work Hermione had ever seen. Before she could think twice about it, she gave Charlie's arm a little squeeze; his arms muscles were much nicer than Ron's had ever been, even with all the Quidditch practice.

"I haven't been spending enough time with you lately if you don't know the answer to that question," he said. "What do you need me to do?"

Across the table, Fred tried to choke back a laugh and almost succeeded. Hermione whipped her head around to glare at him, but the glaring part never quite came, as she saw only blurred images in her vision for a full ten seconds after her sudden movement. She felt Charlie's arms come up to support her, and the surge of warmth she'd felt earlier that morning returned tenfold, accompanied by another tingling feeling. _It can't be the alcohol_, she thought. _Charlie only arrived a couple of minutes ago. At least, I think so._

"You're so sweet, Charlie," she said. She liked the way it felt to say his name, the way her tongue had to dart forward and press against the back of her teeth to pronounce the "L." She repeated it a couple of times, testing out the exact positions of her lips for each syllable. He seemed to be just as fascinated as she did, as his eyes didn't leave her mouth the entire time she spoke.

"Alright, I think it's time to get you home, love," said Fred, standing. He flicked his wand, and his winter cloak sailed directly into his hands from the coat rack by the door.

His movements didn't really register for Hermione until he'd walked around the table and placed a hand on her arm. Charlie was still steadying her, and she found herself leaning into him away from Fred. "No, Charlie has to take me home. He said he'd help me."

"Hermione, I don't think you know what you're saying," the lone twin replied, and he tried to lift her out of the chair.

She kept her weight stubbornly in the chair, but smiled up at him sweetly. "It's okay, Fred. Tonks doesn't mind." She turned to Charlie, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow. "She said she doesn't mind if we use the kitchen table, too."

Charlie's face changed abruptly, as if she'd just said something surprising, but Hermione didn't care, because she had a really great view of his dark eyes. She could see the tiniest flecks of gold buried in the brown. "Hermione, wait. I didn't mean…."

Fred laughed, and she found herself laughing with him. She wished Charlie would laugh, too. Then she saw his tongue run slowly along his bottom lip and promptly changed her mind. It was positively the most seductive thing he could have done at the moment, and she found herself thinking again about what Tonks had said. She also couldn't help but think it was a really good thing Charlie stopped her before she could drink too much. She wasn't sure she'd be able to restrain herself otherwise.

"Sorry, mate," said Fred. "Looks like I'm going to have to leave her to you. I'd be afraid of the consequences if I were to try and pry her away."

"And what about the consequences if you don't?" said Charlie, his eyes flicking briefly from her up to his brother.

Fred clapped him on the shoulder and kissed her on the forehead. "Well, what's the worst that could happen?" He winked.

Before Charlie could answer, the other Weasley had retreated from the table and left the bar altogether. He turned back to her and smoothed her hair back from her face. She hadn't realized that it had fallen around her like a lion's mane, but she was glad to have it out of the way. She put her arms around his neck, but he gently pulled them away as he stood up, offering her a soft smile.

"Fred's right. I should get you home," he said, offering her a hand. "Do you think you can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk," Hermione said sharply, using his grip to pull herself up from her chair. Her legs promptly buckled beneath her, and she giggled as he easily righted her again with a strong arm around her waist. "Well, perhaps I need a little help. I've had a very long day, so I'm pretty knackered."

They manoeuvred out onto the streets outside, and the temperature dropped dramatically. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, and he tightened his grip on her. He smelled nice, like apple cider and a faint trace of pipe tobacco. "Why didn't we just Apparate?" she asked.

"You're in no condition to Apparate anywhere," he said. He must have recognized the confusion on her face, though, because he added, "Besides, it's a nice night for a walk."

The walk _was_ nice, she supposed, though all she really remembered was Charlie's thumb making tiny circles on her stomach. Each revolution of the digit seemed to be slower than the last, though she wasn't sure whether it was Charlie or her that was losing momentum. Whenever she tried to focus enough to speak to him, she'd stumble, so she decided it was better to just enjoy the feel of his warm body next to hers and concentrate on walking.

They arrived to an empty flat, and Hermione wasn't surprised, though she couldn't really remember why. There was a piece of parchment resting on the table next to the door, and Charlie picked it up on their way to her bedroom. "Harry says he's gone into the office to finish up some paperwork."

"Load of rubbish," she mumbled as he led her to the bed and slowly eased her onto it. She felt her eyes start to cloud with moisture, but the reason why Harry's letter made her so sad seemed to be stuck somewhere in the back of her equally cloudy brain. Merlin, she was tired. It wasn't like her to forget things that were evidently fairly important if they made her tear up.

"Rest here a moment while I jot a quick note for Harry, and then I'll help you into bed," said Charlie, and he left her to go back into the living room.

The loneliness that overcame her in his absence was sudden and overwhelming, and the threatened tears came pouring down her cheeks. This wasn't going the way she had planned. What _had_ she planned? Her inability to think straight was almost as frustrating as the empty place on the bed next to her. Angrily, she stood up on shaky legs and began to get ready for bed. She let her cloak fall off behind her, then pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor with it, not even caring about the mess she was leaving.

Hermione had just managed to avoid falling over as she kicked off her pants when she heard Charlie come back into the room. "Hermione, are you—"

And it was the sharpness of his voice as he sucked in a quick breath that gave her a tiny moment of clarity. It was in that instant that she realized she was standing only a few metres from a very attractive wizard who had said he would help her if he could. And that very wizard had taken one look at her standing in the middle of her bedroom, practically starkers, and he hadn't run away. In fact, after his initial shock, he'd actually taken a step _toward_ her.

"Charlie," she said softly, this time letting her tongue linger a second longer than necessary at the front of her mouth before the rest of the word came across her lips. He froze just inside the doorway and watched her for what seemed like hours. A little shiver ran through her, but Hermione wasn't sure if it was his gaze or just the cool air on her bare skin.

"Fuck, I'm going to regret this tomorrow," he said, his voice deep and almost hoarse. Then he took two more long strides and pulled her into his arms.

Their mouths pressed together with such matched desperation that she briefly wondered if he'd wanted this all day as much as she had, but then she was lost in the kiss and the fog that was beginning to envelope her once again. When her legs threatened to fail her, his broad hands were ready, and he caught her at the small of her back without losing contact with her lips. Calloused palms caressed her back, and this time she was positive her reaction was not due to the temperature. In turn, she brought her hands up and around his neck to the soft skin at the nape, pulling him to her as she struggled for as much contact as she could gain.

When his lips did leave hers, it was only to trace the line of her jaw and neck with soft kisses, and one of his hands left her back in favour of winding itself in her thick mass of unruly hair. A small sigh of contentment escaped from her as he pulled their bodies so close that every bit of her skin tingled. She coaxed him back up to her face, and he nuzzled her cheek one more time before bring their lips back together in a kiss that rivalled only the previous one in intensity. She ran her hands down his back before boldly sliding them under his shirt.

The fire between them only seemed to increase as she ran her hands across the muscles at his side, his abdomen, and then up to his chest, but as her touch started to travel lower again, Charlie suddenly stopped moving. His lips were still touching hers when he whispered, "Hermione, I can't—not like this."

"But, I thought you…." She pressed her lips against his one more time, and he responded with a firm but short kiss. Her hands slid back up to rest on his chest, her body going lax against his. Her lips tried to form more words, but no sound came out.

"I do," he said, the huskiness in his voice making something deep in her body stir pleasantly. It was something she recognized even through the dreamlike veil that had begun to drop around her. "Merlin, I want this more than anything right now. But…I'm not sure you do. Not now, and certainly not like this."

The last thing Hermione remembered was opening her mouth to respond, and then a cool darkness slipping over her like a blanket.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry you had to wait a little longer than usual. This chapter ran longer than I expected. Drop me a quick review to let me know if it was worth the wait! ;)


	8. Plan C

Chapter Eight

Plan C

Hermione woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, a vague sense of nausea and very little recollection of anything that had happened after the twins had left the Leaky Cauldron. There were little flashes of images, like she was viewing her memories through a window that was mostly frosted over. There was also a sense memory that was pinging at the back of her mind, some scent that kept replaying itself in her olfactory glands, but that she could not quite place.

After several minutes of lying in bed with a spare pillow over her face, she finally forced herself to sit up and survey her surroundings. The room seemed normal enough until her eyes reached the floor and the various articles of clothing that were strewn about haphazardly. Something about it jogged her memory, and she jerked the sheets off her body to see her underwear-clad form looking back at her.

"Just brilliant," she grumbled as rolled out of bed with only a momentary pause to allow her stomach to settle. She glanced at the clock. If she hurried, she'd have just enough time to catch the twins before the shop opened.

Fifteen minutes later Hermione was standing in front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes staring at the "Closed—Shouldn't You Be Out Pranking Someone?" sign and knocking repeatedly on the door. After a couple of minutes, Fred's face appeared on the other side of the glass. He smiled brightly at her, but he had one eyebrow raised nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" asked Fred as he let Hermione in. "Not that we don't enjoy seeing your lovely face first thing in the morning."

"If she'd take one of us up on the offer, then we could see it every morning," George added with seductive look up and down her body. He was seated at the front counter verifying the till. Stacks of galleons and knuts and sickles were arranged precariously in front of him, giving a little hop as each counted itself onto the sheet of magical parchment he was holding.

Hermione barely paid attention to him as she glanced around the shop, and, satisfied that the twins were its only occupants, said, "Tell me I didn't come onto your brother last night."

Fred led her further into the shop and exchanged a look with George, and then said, "You didn't come onto our brother last night."

"Oh, thank Merlin," she said, sitting down on a stool next to George. She leaned on the counter with her chin in her hand. "Do you have anything for headaches?"

George reached for a shelf behind him and pulled down a small vial, handing it to her. "Even better. _Weasleys' Hangover Haven_."

The little bottle held a blue potion that was so bright it practically glowed in the morning sunlight that streamed through the front windows. She pulled the stopper and started to drain the liquid, but Fred stopped her. "Just takes a couple of drops."

Pulling her wand from the holster at her side, she waved it over the top of the vial and mumbled a few words. Two beads of potion rose from the container and hovered in the air in front of her for a second before she leaned forward and grabbed them with her mouth. Immediately she felt her headache begin to fade away, lessening with every second that passed, and her nausea was gone almost immediately. "That's much better. I see you've even managed to solve the age-old flavour dilemma. The cherry is much better than the usual stuff." She held the bottle back out to him.

George shook his head and pushed the _Hangover Haven_ back toward her. One corner of his mouth twitched and then leapt into a grin. "Hold onto the rest. You'll need it for the next time you want to drink too much and come onto our brother."

Hermione groaned and let her head fall onto the counter. She covered it with her arms, hoping maybe she could just hide from the world for a little while. "Do you have anything lethal? It might improve my life a little."

"And deprive us of your cheery company? I think not," said Fred. "What's so bad about fancying Charlie? Merlin knows he needs a good shag."

Hermione looked up at him, glaring. "In case you haven't noticed, things are already complicated enough without adding something like that into the mix. And I don't fancy Charlie."

"Right," said George with a smirk. "And we have no sense of humour."

"What does it matter, anyway?"

There was a moment of awkward silence, probably the first Hermione could remember experiencing with the twins. George finished putting away the day's till and Fred straightened a nearby display of _New and Improved Daydream Charms!_ that already looked immaculate. Her eyes flicked up to the clock.

Fred must have had similar thoughts, because he said, "Aren't you supposed to be at Tonks's in about two minutes?"

"She won't mind if I'm a few minutes late, and Remus has to be somewhere early, so he won't be waiting on me."

Fred draped his arms around her shoulders and looked up at his brother. "Ah George, methinks the lady is avoiding something."

"Or someone," said George, nodding in agreement.

The minute hand clicked past the hour, and Hermione felt a little knot form in her stomach. She looked away, trying to avoid the eyes of either of her companions. She what if she wanted to spare Charlie the awkwardness of explaining his actions the previous night? She'd been drunk—completely and utterly pissed, to tell the truth—and that freed her from talking her way out of it. She barely remembered the evening at all anyway.

He had smelled really nice, and his hands had been gentle when they wound around her back and through her hair. In stark contrast was his voice, which was as gruff and untamed as his actions were smooth and deliberate. And the kiss—

Hermione shook her head, but it didn't clear.

"A penny for your thoughts?" said Fred, grinning madly.

George slapped him on the arm. "No thanks, Fred, I'll leave her to those thoughts. He is our brother, after all."

"Good point," said Fred with a nod. Then his expression softened. "I really don't know why you're so worried about it. This is Charlie, not some random guy off the street."

"I've got to go," was Hermione's answer as the clock moved to five minutes after. She walked to the door and could see several people waiting outside. She touched their sign and turned back to give the twins a small smile. "Thanks."

She turned the sign to "Open—The Prank Starts Here!" and stepped outside, smiling apologetically at a woman who had obviously been trying to keep three young boys under control as they waited. She stopped long enough to watch all the customers enter, then shook her head, still smiling. It was truly amazing what those two had accomplished; she wished she could say the same thing of herself.

When she flooed into Tonks's living room, it was empty. Stripping her travelling cloak, she dropped it onto a nearby chair before heading down the hallway toward the main bedroom. The sinking feeling she'd gotten over being late began to dissipate a little with each step, and all her early morning worry over the previous night's events started to fade.

"Where is she? Why isn't she here yet?"

Hermione froze at the sound of the voice. What was Charlie still doing here? He should have been at work already.

"Calm down, Charlie," said Tonks soothingly. "So she's a few minutes late. So what?"

"You know as well as I do that Hermione is never late," he replied.

"Would you at least stop pacing? Send Calypso. Maybe she's been sick and just overslept. You did say she was drinking last night."

Hermione's stomach flopped uncomfortably as she started down the hall again. Had Charlie told Tonks what happened? She pushed the bedroom door open, and both heads snapped around to look at her. Tonks smiled brightly at her, but she could immediately see the worry in Charlie's face, despite his evident effort to look calm. When had she gotten to know him well enough to read him like that?

"I'm here," she said lamely.

"See, she's fine," said Tonks, gesturing toward the door. "Now get your arse to work before you get yourself fired. You're going to have a family to provide for soon, after all." She gave him her most stunning innocent smile.

Charlie didn't seem to hear her. He took a couple of steps toward Hermione, stopping just shy of her. He held one hand out as if to touch her, but then it fell back to his side. "You're all right, then?"

Hermione nodded. Her throat felt constricted, but she managed to get out, "I'm sorry. I stopped by to see the twins at the shop, and I lost track of time."

Without another word, Charlie breezed out of the room and was gone. Hermione looked over her shoulder and barely caught the tail of his robes as he left. When she turned back to her charge, she had to step up and lean on the bed for support. The whole encounter, as short as it had been, left her feeling a little off balance.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Tonks asked suddenly, pulling herself up a little higher on her pillows. She patted the bed next to her. There was a crooked sort of smile on her face rather than the bright grin. "I haven't seen him that worked up in a long time. Over five minutes no less. You've got him wound tighter than McGonagall's hair."

Hermione smoothed the edge of the duvet before sitting on the edge of it. She looked down at her lap as she said, "It's all too complicated."

"Remus told me about last night," said Tonks, her voice taking on a much milder tone. "It's just like the bloody bureaucrats to pull something like that. He said neither of you took it very well."

"I should never have agreed to this insane plan in the first place. If I were off living with relatives, no one would be in this awful situation in the first place."

"What about you and Charlie?"

Hermione looked up at her friend, but there wasn't a trace of amusement on her face now. "What about us? There is no us."

"He likes you, Hermione. I can tell." She flashed a grin. "Besides, if the law says you have to shag somebody, it might as well be someone you want to shag."

"I'm not even sure it can be someone else."

"But if it could be?"

"Charlie wouldn't be such a bad choice," Hermione admitted, allowing herself a tiny smile. "Still, I can't take a chance. It's not like I can just waltz into the Ministry and ask if sleeping with someone else counts the same as sleeping with my husband. And we can't afford to risk everything by assuming."

Tonks shrugged. "Then why not just ask Luna? She's going to be here in about half an hour to check up on me."

* * *

"His heartbeat is still slower than I'd like, but otherwise vital signs are holding strong," Luna said, holding her wand steady for another moment. The tip was glowing faintly green, pulsing to show each beat while it was held above Tonks's exposed belly. With a final nod, she tucked the wand away in her robes.

Tonks pulled down her pyjama top and tried to camouflage the long breath she was letting out, but Hermione caught it anyway. There was some worry that even an expert disguise artist like Tonks couldn't hide. "What would we do without you?" She patted her stomach one last time and then snuggled back into the sheets. "Ron sure found himself a catch, eh Hermione?"

"He did," Hermione replied, smiling brightly. She was proud that only the smallest hint of jealousy pinged somewhere deep in her chest at the comment.

The blond witch returned her smile and then began pulling some potions out of her bags and switching them with those already present on the bedside table. With each she explained the timing and dosage, and the other two listened carefully. The last thing Hermione wanted was to mess up something so moronically simple as the daily meds.

When Luna had finished, Hermione opened her mouth to ask the question that had been on her mind all morning, but instead she said, "We should try to see one another sometime when it's not all business."

Luna actually looked surprised for half a second before her usual dreamy, doe-eyed expression overtook her face again. "I'd like that. It's been a long time since I've had any girls to hang around."

Hermione nodded. She definitely knew the feeling. Even before Ginny had been injured, her friend was caught up with work and wedding plans, and the two hadn't gotten much quality time. Now…. Hermione wasn't going to regret lack of time spent with another friend.

"Why don't you stay for lunch?" asked Tonks brightly. "Hermione has some questions she needs to ask you that involve a certain brother-in-law of yours who also happens to be my fake boyfriend."

Hermione threw her "employer" the nastiest stare she could muster. Luna, however, did not seem phased. If anything, she smiled even more.

"Oh, you two would be wonderful together! Hmm, Virgo and Sagittarius, yes? He brings energy to the relationship, while you would keep your situation secure. Yes, definitely good together." Luna paused, thoughtful for a moment, and then added, "But you should really talk to Harry about why you're upset with him. It isn't his fault either, so you should try to come to a mutual understanding."

Tonks was staring blankly at the witch, and Hermione knew a similar expression was on her face.

"What?" Luna asked, tilting her head to the side like a small child studying an especially interesting new toy.

"You got all that from astrological studies?" asked Hermione.

Luna laughed. "No, silly. From Ron. He talked to Harry this morning and said you had a row. It was about the new law, wasn't it? The _really_ new part."

Hermione sank onto the bed at Tonks's feet. "I know it's not his fault. I don't blame him for being upset, really. It's just the way he said it. Like I'd gone from being his best friend to his worst nightmare from one Ministry decree and a conversation with Remus." She took a breath and continued. "Besides, I don't even really understand the purpose of the silly law anyway. Why do they want to force us to have the intent to start a family, but not actually care about the family part? It doesn't make any sense."

"Actually it makes perfect sense," said Luna. She also made a seat at the foot of the bed. "Apparently there was an abnormally large surge in weddings last week. The Ministry is suspicious they have a leak."

"I knew there was something Remus wasn't telling me!" said Tonks in a sudden uproar of sound. "It does make perfect sense. If they can use the new twist in the decree to ferret out those couples who were married only to evade the Registration Proclamation…."

"Then they'll be that much closer to figuring out who the spies are," finished Hermione with a heavy sigh. It was even worse than she thought. Not only was her privacy being violated in the most heinous manners, but now she also had to worry that her actions—or lack thereof—could result in punishment for her friends, if their duplicity in the matter was discovered. She looked up at Tonks, whose bright pink locks had faded to a dull purple over the course of the conversation.

Tonks jabbed a finger toward her. "Don't you go feeling guilty now. Remus and I can take care of ourselves, and it's certainly not the most danger mission we've had, either. Besides, you've somehow managed to change the subject." She turned to Luna. "Here's what we need to know—if Hermione were to shag Charlie instead, would your people be able to tell?"

"Tonks!" Hermione could feel her face growing hot, but it only seemed to encourage the Auror's playfulness.

"In fact, would it help if she shagged him more than once?" she continued, a devilish glint in her eyes. "I mean, in the interest of making the test easier to read and such."

Luna was laughing silently by that point, nearly to the point of tears, but she managed to shake her head. "No," she choked out between giggles, "it wouldn't work. There are ways of matching the magical signatures of the couple. It's a pretty intense process, actually. I've only seen it used to disprove infidelity, and only then when the patient is desperate. It's not painful, but it's definitely invasive. Shows a lot more than I care to have anyone know about my private life."

"Bollocks," said Tonks, frowning.

Hermione's stomach tightened. She couldn't tell if it was from Luna's description of the process or from the strange sense of disappointment at the news. When had she actually started hoping there would be such an easy solution? Not that she'd sleep with Charlie just to satisfy the law, but that she'd have an option besides Harry. Hell, even Fred or George was better than Harry at that point.

"Well, look on the bright side," said Tonks, sitting up so she could lean over and place a hand on Hermione's arm. "At least Harry's someone you can trust. He'll let you set the pace."

"I haven't even seen him since last night," said Hermione with a sigh. "We're off to a great start."

"Well, if talking doesn't work, there's always Plan B," said Luna, a tiny smile playing across her lips. If Hermione didn't know better, she would have thought Tonks was rubbing off on the wistful witch. Maybe all that sneaking around and subtle altering of medical records was a bad influence. Then again, Luna had followed them into the Department of Mysteries back in fifth year, so she definitely wasn't as innocent as she seemed.

"Ah yes, Plan B," said Tonks. She winked at Luna and then looked at Hermione again. "Plan B is almost worth letting Plan A fail on purpose. After all, where's the fun in 'talking it out'?"

"Why do I get the feeling I won't like Plan B one bit?"

"Because you, Hermione Granger, are far too practical for your own good."

"I wouldn't call getting drunk and kissing Charlie while in my knickers practical," said Hermione all at once. The effect was instantaneous. Tonks's mouth dropped open wide enough that birds could have nested there, and even Luna had a little more twinkle in her eyes.

"I take it back," said Tonks, closing her mouth long enough to break into a wide smile. "We should skip straight to Plan B and get it over with, then you can move on to Plan C."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why don't I just seduce Harry, take my test, then go after Charlie next?"

Tonks laughed aloud. "I think she's catching on, Luna!"

"Wait," said Hermione, looking between the two, "I was only joking. You can't be ser—Oh Merlin, you _are_ serious."

"The stars are ripe for it," said Luna with a nod. "The full moon is a particularly good time for fostering these sorts of relationships. I can do a chart for you, if you'd like."

Tonks ignored the blonde witch. "Charlie likes red knickers. He told me so once."

And before she could distract herself, her mind immediately turned to her wardrobe. Perhaps Luna wasn't the only one being influenced...

* * *

Author's Note:

NaNoWriMo went really well (50,004 words! Woo hoo!), so now I'm trying to get back in the swing of updating my fan fics while still trying to do rewrites on the novel (which has to be replotted). Thanks for being patient. Hope everyone is having a good holiday season so far. :-)

Other updates to follow soon, I hope!


	9. Where Things Are Going

Chapter Nine

Where Things Are Going

"I'll see you tomorrow," Hermione said, flicking her wand so that an empty glass flew from the end table to the kitchen sink. She tried to smile, but the best she could manage was to not frown. "Now you need to lie back down."

Tonks, still clad in her warm dressing gown, but no longer lounging in her bed, gave her caretaker a hard look. "I'm allowed to see you off, aren't I?"

"I suppose, though you're not—"

The older witch enveloped her in a hug. Hermione suddenly found it very difficult to hold back tears, but with a determined effort, she did at least do that much. "It's going to be fine," said Tonks, pulling back to look her in the eye. "Six months isn't so long as it seems."

"It's been ten years since I learned I was a witch," Hermione replied. She held up her wand, the vine wood nearly as shiny as it had been the day her parents bought it from Ollivander's. "And I haven't been a day without it since." She shook her head and pocketed the wand. "Anyway, I've got to go. Deadline and all. Are you sure you're going to be all right until Remus gets back?"

Tonks shrugged. "Charlie will be here soon. I'm surprised he isn't yet." Then she gave her friend a knowing look. "You can't just sneak back and forth from house to house not talking to anyone, you know."

"I talk to you."

"Yes, I know. And those dashing twins. But I'm afraid you're chatting up the wrong Weasleys. Have you forgotten the plan so soon?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd heard practically nothing else for the last week and was even beginning to regret inviting Luna round, for the blonde witch was almost worse than Tonks, and that was saying a lot. She started to spout a witty retort when a soft swooshing sound behind them announced the arrival of a floo traveler.

"Wotcher, Charlie!" cried Tonks excitedly. The grin she gave Hermione was nothing short of devilish. "We were just talking about you."

Charlie raised an eyebrow as he dusted floo powder from his robes. He didn't look at Hermione at all as he said, "Was it my overwhelming good looks? Or my powerful virility?"

"Neither, though both have been touched on recently, I believe. Speaking of touching—"

"I have to go," said Hermione quickly.

"Wait," said Charlie, almost as suddenly.

She looked up at him, and their eyes met. There was something about those eyes that held her there with one hand on the door and the other hanging limply at her side, as if it was just waiting for something to touch. She scowled inwardly at Tonks's powers of suggestion.

"I promise I won't keep you long," he continued. "I just need to talk to you for a minute."

Tonks's smile brightened even more. "Well, I'll just leave you two to it, then. I need my rest, after all." She turned, gave Hermione an exaggerated wink, and then went down the hall toward her bedroom. Then she added, without looking back at them, "The guest room is free if you need a little more privacy."

"She's about as subtle as Hagrid is small," said Charlie, grimacing a little.

"It's part of her charm," said Hermione.

"I guess it is," he said with a little laugh. Then he cleared his throat. "Listen, Hermione…."

"You don't have to say anything."

"I just want this awkwardness between us to be gone," he said, hanging his cloak on its hook on the wall and setting his briefcase down below it. When he looked back up at her, he was several feet closer to her. She suspected her traitorous feet of taking a few steps of their own, but she wasn't quite sure. "I thought we were becoming friends, but now…."

"We are friends, Charlie. I don't want one moment of drunken stupidity to get in the way of that." She smiled, hating how false it felt. She didn't want to smile at him and play nice, go turn in her wand, then go home to an empty flat. Hermione wasn't sure what she did want, but pretending like everything was all right—to a person who'd supported her through her worst moments over the last few weeks—was almost worse than not talking to him at all. "Let's just forget about it and move on."

In two strides he was standing right in front of her. "That's just the problem," he said, reaching a hand up but not quite touching her. "I've been trying to forget, and you just won't get out of my head."

Hermione's stomach fluttered pleasantly, but her overactive mind wouldn't allow her even that moment of excitement before it settled into something else entirely. "I have to sleep with Harry."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not going to stand between you and your wand, and if I was ever going to speak up in disapproval of this plan, now certainly wouldn't be the time."

"But?"

"No buts. I like you, plain and simple. Maybe a little too much, considering you're my little brother's best friend."

"Not to mention married."

Charlie's lips turned up into a grin. "But that's the fun part."

His smile almost overwhelmed her. She suddenly wanted so badly to just laugh with him and ignore reality for just a few minutes. If it had only been her fate at stake, she might have been tempted in that moment; surely the Order could hide her until this crazy proclamation blew over. But Harry was already wrapped up in it all with her. Maybe it had been stupid to jump into things, but she even had trouble blaming herself for making the decision on such short notice. Still, it didn't help her as far as Charlie was concerned.

"Neither one of us can risk it." Hermione pointed down the hall toward the bedrooms. "If anyone found out that you weren't the father…."

Before she could voice any more reasons, his arms were around her, and she let herself melt onto his chest. She didn't know how he did it, but his physical grip seemed to comfort her almost as much as his words. "We can be careful. Take it slow and see how things go."

"And if things go?" She looked up at him.

"Things have already gone, love," Charlie said, putting a hand on her cheek. "I just don't know where yet."

This time when he kissed her, Hermione paid special attention to every detail. The smooth texture of his lips as they slid across hers in slow, sensuous patterns, the way his hand cupped her cheek, thumb lingering just above their melded mouths. His body was pressed against hers in such a way that it was hard for her to focus on the other pieces of the kiss, because her mind kept wanting see things going much farther than Charlie was talking about. Still, since she couldn't remember the first one, this kiss seemed like as good a place as any to mark in her memory the start of…whatever it was they were doing.

When they pulled apart, both of them were smiling.

"There," he said, running his thumb down the corner of her mouth. "You're beautiful when you smile."

Hermione shook her head, but she couldn't shake the expression away. She tried to pull out of his grip, but he didn't let her go. "Charlie, I really do have to go."

He suddenly seemed to remember exactly where it was she had to go, and his face sobered immediately, but he still didn't release her. "When you see Harry, tell him to watch his back, okay?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyebrows screwed up in confusion. "What does he have to watch out for, besides the obvious?"

"There—" Charlie started, then he pulled back from her a little. He didn't exactly let her go, but there was just enough distance between them that she could see a change in his posture. "It might be nothing," he said finally. "But promise me you'll tell him. Tell him to be careful."

Something in his look told her he wasn't going to elaborate no matter how hard she pushed. She didn't like that look one bit, but she'd lingered far too long already. There wasn't time for arguing over something that might, as he had said, but nothing at all. "I'll tell him if I see him. Not that I expect to."

"He's not coming to the Ministry with you?" It was Charlie's turn to be confused.

"Harry isn't exactly talking to me right now." At his look, she added, "If they ask, I'll just tell him he got called away on urgent Auror business. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Hermione, someone should come with you," he said softly. "You shouldn't have to do this by yourself."

"I'll be fine," she said firmly, and then she stepped out of his arms. She stopped once again when her hand was on the door handle, and turned back to look at him. He was watching her with an unreadable expression, though she suspected it was some mixture of worry and frustration. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what sort of frustration. "I'm glad things aren't awkward anymore."

"Me too," he said, and a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione rushed out of flat as quickly as she could, before things other than her priorities could get a hold on her brain. Normally she would have apparated or flooed, depending on her mood or destination, but she had a quick errand to run before her trip to the Ministry. She was afraid her conversation with Charlie might have taken too long, but according to her watch, she would have just enough time. She hoped the neighborhood was quiet enough that she could take care of her business without too many people around. Much better than the Diagon Alley flat she shared with Harry.

The winter air nipped at her cheeks, and she had to pull her scarf a little tighter around her. It didn't hurt that the clothing also obscured face from those around her; she hadn't that considered Christmas shopping would have witches and wizards out in full force, even in the smaller districts. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door of the local apothecary—she didn't want to be seen, but she also wasn't taking any chances just for the sake of her public image.

The shop wasn't as busy as she'd feared—apparently no one was buying Christmas gifts in the drug store—so she was able to make her way directly to the counter without bumping into anyone. The elderly store clerk eyed her, but more out of anticipation of a sale than suspicion or even recognition. Hermione still felt like some sort of criminal as she did her best to look over the contraceptive potions without drawing attention to her item of choice.

The selection was much more voluminous than she remembered. The only experience she'd had with this particular section of the store was a single trip she'd made with Lavender and Parvati the summer after her seventh year. Well, she hadn't so much made the trip with them as they had dragged her, and she'd spent most of the time trying to stop wondering whether Lavender had made use of the products with Ron rather than actually paying attention to the little girl lesson they'd been giving her. However, the tiny supply she'd picked up was enough keep her adequately protected through the meager sex life she'd had, so she figured that previous trip had been useful enough.

Luckily, she recognized the potion she'd used before as soon as she laid eyes on it. The bright yellow label, which now read _New and Improved!_, was quite distinctive. With one glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, Hermione quickly grabbed every bottle they had on the shelf.

"Got plans this weekend, have ya lass?" said the clerk with a wink as he rang her purchases.

Hermione merely shrugged and paid as quickly as the old man's hands would allow. By the time he had recounted her galleons, she was almost ready to dump her entire coin purse on the counter and yell for him to keep the change as she dashed out the door. It may have been embarrassment or the realization that she really was going to be late to the Ministry if she didn't hurry, but either way she apparated home as soon as she got outside. If she was quick, she could stash the potion bottles in her bedroom and still be able to make it just in time.

When she appeared in the living room of her flat, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Harry was sitting on the couch staring up at her with a blank expression. It startled her so much that she nearly dropped twenty galleons worth of contraceptive potion. Instead they just clanged around loudly as she struggled to keep hold of them. When she saw Harry's eyes fall to the bottles, she cursed herself for not letting the clerk put them in a bag. At the time, she'd been trying to avoid another ten minutes of his fumbling with the items, but now the time seemed like it would have been worth it.

"Harry…what are you doing home?"

He stood up in one smooth motion indicative of the type of physical training the Aurors received—and all but Tonks seemed to be able to channel into an unearthly grace—and came to stand directly in front of her. Not intimately close, but enough. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him composed and collected.

"I've been thinking," he said, and he looked down at the potions again. "And it seems so have you."

"Oh, stop trying to be so calm," Hermione said with sudden irritation. She set the bottles on the coffee table and turned back to him. "I don't have time to get into this with you right now, but I have even less time to dance around the subject."

"Who said I was dancing?" said Harry. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry for the other night. I was out of line."

She felt a lump form in her throat. "Have you been talking to Tonks?"

"Remus," he said with a shrug, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "I didn't mean to imply that I didn't think you were pretty."

Hermione laughed shortly, but when she did, something inside her seemed to release built up tension. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want to seduce me."

"So plan A isn't working?"

"Merlin, Harry, I'm all the way up to plan C!"

They both laughed, and he pulled her into a hug. His grip was just a little too loose, like he was afraid to fully commit to the gesture, but she felt relief flood through her anyway. Having Tonks and Luna behind her all week had been wonderful, but hadn't realized just how much it meant to have Charlie and Harry supporting her fully as well. And Harry…well, it would be literally impossible to succeed in the ruse without his help.

"Let's go take care of this other business," he whispered. "Then we can talk. It's going to be all right."

And somehow, when Harry said it, Hermione could actually start to believe it was true. She wondered if she should ask him what he thought about Charlie; if he could make mandatory wand holding periods seem inconsequential, she was almost certain he could somehow make sense of the twisted mess of her feelings for a Weasley who, for once, was actually not their best friend.

* * *

Author's Note:

Down, Charlie! He somehow wormed his way into a chapter that was _supposed _to be all about Harry and Hermione. No worries, though...Harry gets his screen time in the next chapter instead. I guess it was about time the awkwardness ended. After all, in only a few chapters... Well, you'll have to see, won't you?

I'm currently brainstorming a Harry/Hermione story with fellow author **Lara Zed** (Read her stuff! She's got one of the few Percy/Hermione stories that's worth reading. :-) /plug), and I think it might be good fun if I can nail down the plot. Additionally, I'm toying with adapting an old idea I had into a post-DH story that follows several couples (though George/Hermione would be the main). In the meantime, I'm still trying to work out the mental kinks with Essence (not to mention working on a non-fan fic project...a screenplay I'm hoping to finish in time for scriptapalooza!). I'd also eventually love to do a time travel story, but I'm trying to avoid getting _completely _buried in projects. Do you guys have anything in particular you'd like to see?


	10. When No One's Watching

Chapter Ten

When No One's Watching

When Hermione and Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with barely two minutes to spare, they discovered that Hermione was not the only Muggle-born witch or wizard to wait until the absolute last minute to turn in his or her wand. The crowd was so large that several of Harry's on duty co-workers had apparently been cajoled into trying to keep the masses queued in some sort of orderly fashion. They said their greetings, both putting on as calm a demeanour as possible, and then took their place at the end of the line.

Hermione tried her best to ignore it, but within seconds of stepping into the lobby, she could already see and hear the whispered acknowledgements of her and Harry's presence. "That's Harry Potter!" "Why's he here?" "Didn't you hear? His wife's a Muggle-born." "I wonder if we can get his autograph." Of course, the majority of the group seemed in far too ill humours to pay them any mind, so she tried not to think too badly of the others for grabbing onto a subject that would get their minds off their current difficulty.

"Harry, mate!" called a voice before they'd been standing there more than thirty seconds.

The two turned and a young man who was probably somewhere around Charlie's age walked up to them, a bright smile on his face. He had light brown hair that was just long enough to cover the tops of his ears, and it moved a little with every step. He wasn't exactly handsome, but his all over "look" reminded her of Muggle fashion models she'd seen. The only thing distinguishing him from them was the long, formal uniform coat that identified him as an Auror. He extended his hand to Harry, who immediately shook it vigorously.

"What brings you up here, Quentin?" asked Harry as he pulled back his hand just to place it at his wife's waist. She instinctively leaned into the embrace. "I didn't think you were on duty tonight."

It was barely perceptible, but something in Harry's voice made a little flag pop up in her head. All those times after the war he'd been forced into interviews, or especially after Ginny's accident, he had sounded just the same. Pleasant, yet overly controlled. Dedicated to the conversation, but desperate to be out of it. To those who knew him, it was a tone you didn't want to hear when he was addressing you.

"I wasn't, but Shacklebolt called me in," said Quentin. If he noticed any animosity from Harry, he didn't let on. "Anyway, what are you doing in the queue back here? Come on, let's get you taken care of so you can go back home." He held a hand out toward another door that was closed and guarded.

"That's really not necessary," said Hermione, trying to catch Harry's eye. The last thing she wanted was for the others in her same predicament to see them taking advantage of their fame in this manner. He, however, avoided looking at her and moved to follow the other wizard.

"I assure you, Mrs. Potter, it's quite necessary," said Quentin. He nodded at the Aurors minding the door, and they moved aside to let the group pass. "We've already had two incidents this evening, and that was before someone as famous as my colleague and yourself showed up for the festivities. Tensions are high, as I'm sure you noticed."

"I wonder why that would be," she said dryly. "I—"

Harry squeezed her arm and shook his head ever so slightly. Before she had time to question the movement, they passed through a short hall, and Quentin stopped and turned back to them.

"First door on the left," he said, pointing a little further down the way. He shook Harry's hand again and then just looked at the two of them for a minute, smiling. "You two are really lucky, you know that?"

Harry beat her to the response. He gave her a little squeeze. "The luckiest."

"Well, I suppose I should get back out there," Quentin said. "Wouldn't want the boss to think I was skiving off."

Hermione started to add in her own comments, but she felt the slightest bit of pressure from Harry's hand on her back, leading her in the opposite direction of their guide, so she decided it was best to follow his lead. At least until she knew what was going on. She'd barely walked two steps before the wizard spoke again, and she froze, holding her breath.

"It was just such a coincidence that you picked the week before the new proclamation for your surprise wedding. It's as if Merlin himself were looking down on you, mate."

"Like I said, _mate_," said Harry, only turning around just enough to face the other man, "the luckiest."

This time there was so little veil over the growl in his words that Hermione almost winced, even though they weren't directed at her. Who was Quentin that he invoked such a response? She'd never heard Harry mention him before. But then he pulled her into office that had been indicated, and she suddenly remembered the reason they were at the Ministry in the first place.

* * *

Ten minutes later, it was all over. 

"Are you okay?" asked Harry as they wound back through the crowds and into the main atrium. His hand hadn't moved from around her waist the entire time they'd been in their little "meeting," and now that they were back amongst the public, he only held her tighter. She knew it was mostly for show, but it felt nice all the same.

She shook her head. "Six months without my wand is a long time, Harry. I feel completely naked. I know it's been a long time since there's been a real danger, but—"

"You don't have to worry about safety. I won't let anything happen to you."

"But you can't be there every second. I wouldn't want you to have to be," she added when he started to speak. "And don't even think of doing something so idiotic as trying to get me a bodyguard or something. If you've got something like that up your sleeve, then you can forget making it to our first anniversary alive."

Harry laughed and squeezed her gently as they joined the queues in the central floo hub. "Just trust me, all right? I didn't get picked to head up my squad on fame alone, you know. I've been known to have a brilliant plan or two."

He released her then, but she still smiled a little as she watched witches and wizards dashing into and out of the large fireplaces lining the walls. The queues were longer than she'd ever seen them at this time of night, but they progressed at such a pace that they seemed much shorter. Within minutes they were nearly to the front. Hermione was thinking about a quiet evening at home when the fireplace to their left spit out a familiar face.

"Luna!" she called, waving a little.

She dropped her hand immediately when her friend turned at the sound of her name. The petite witch's face was stained with fresh tear tracks, her eyes red and puffy. Hermione's heart began to beat faster as she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him away from the queue just as their turn came; he seemed momentarily confused, but followed anyway.

"What's happened?" She put her hand on Luna's shoulder and led her to an area a little way off from the floo port. She glanced sideways at Harry to see that his expression now mimicked what she was feeling. "Is Ron all right?"

Luna nodded slowly and put on a small smile. "I'm pretty sure Mum's got a Perplank infestation in her attic, but other that, everyone's fine. Work was just really…hard today." She sniffed. "I'm just here to see Ron. He's working late trying to finalize the proposal for the next Quidditch World Cup location, you see."

"Something happened at work, then?"

"One of my patients. Her baby, he…." She took a deep breath, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't think it would affect me the way it has. We've all seen…well, we've seen war and all that comes with it. But this was just…different. He was just so _small_."

Hermione wrapped her in a tight hug. "Can we do anything?"

After a few more shaking sobs, Luna pulled away again. She shook her head. "Thanks. I'll be all right. Besides, you have a plan to put into motion." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively in Harry's direction and then gave them both a little wave. "Give my love to Tonks. And Charlie."

With a final wink, she was gone, sucked away in the fading evening crowd.

"Just when I think I know her," said Harry, shaking his head, a queer sort of smile on his face.

"I don't think we'll ever _really_ know her," Hermione agreed.

They flooed home after another short wait. It wasn't until they stepped into the silence of their flat that both seemed to remember where their evening had started. Hermione's eyes flicked to the coffee table where she'd laid the bottles of contraceptive potion. Now without an upcoming Ministry trip hanging over her, she felt even more exposed. Was it due to her lack of a wand, or just because their topics of conversation were suddenly reduced to only one thing?

Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he walked over and picked up one of the small bottles, turning it over in his hand as if reassuring himself of its existence. "I think we should get it over with."

"What?" Hermione said, laughing shortly. "You make it sound as if we were writing a Transfiguration essay."

"Thank Merlin it's not something that difficult."

She gave him a stern glare. "Really, Harry, I'd almost prefer you angry to not taking this seriously. It's going to be difficult as it is."

He raised an eyebrow. "Now who's being insulting?"

"You know very well I didn't mean it like that," Hermione said, sighing. She sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to it. When he sat, she turned toward him, folding her legs under her. "I just don't want things to have to change between us."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "I've given this a lot of thought over the last week, and I don't think it has to. We're both mature adults. It may be a little weird after, but I think we can get past it. Don't you?"

"I'd like to think so." She took a deep breath. "So how do you propose we do this? Did you and Remus plan it out that far?"

Harry smirked. "Well, I just assumed we'd do it the old fashioned way. But if that won't work…." He pulled two bottles from his pocket. They were similar in size and shape to the potions Hermione had bought, but these were labelled in red and pink. "Here's _my_ plan C."

She took one of them from him and turned it so she could read the label:_Wonder Witch Artificial Aphrodisia_. In bold letters below the name, it proclaimed, _"If you weren't in the mood before, you will be now!"_ Without even being able to see herself, she knew she was blushing furiously. Harry's face was impassive, but she could tell he was nervous for a response from her. "Please tell me Fred and George didn't see you buy this. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"Are you barmy? Remus bought it for me. He told them that, uh, pregnancy was having an effect on…well, you know. So don't worry. Our secret's safe."

Hermione set them on the table next to the others. "You don't think that would make it stranger?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. What about this? We try and work up to it naturally." He pointed to the array of bottles. "And if we get down to the last one of your potions and still haven't managed, then we'll use mine."

Her eyes raked over the table, counting to be sure she had an even dozen doses of the contraceptive potion. Surely by their twelfth attempt they could manage, couldn't they? Before she could change her mind, she grabbed one of them and drained every drop of liquid in the vial, then turned back to Harry. "Well, what are we waiting for? One down, eleven to go."

They stared at each other, neither making a move, both holding their breath. It felt like hours before Harry finally said, "I think we're making a bigger deal out of this than we should. It's not as if we haven't done this bit before. We've had to pretend for the public plenty of times now."

She nodded in response, trying to get up the courage to just close the distance between them, and then suddenly he was kissing her. His lips were stiff against hers, so much in contrast to what she'd shared with Charlie earlier in the day that she let out a little shriek of surprise. Harry pulled back a tiny bit to look at her, but she just grabbed the back of his head and kissed him again.

After a few minutes of such awkward movements that Hermione was reminded of the days she'd spent snogging Viktor Krum under the Quidditch stands, she felt Harry relax into her embrace. That small release of tension in his muscles seemed to spread over to hers, and their lips continued to explore this territory with more confidence than before. She let her mind drift, tried not so hard to focus on the person so much as the sensations. Winding her fingers into his hair, she parted her lips just enough to tease his into the same stance. At the first tentative touch of her tongue, she felt him jerk in surprise, but rather than let him pull away, she inched her way over to him so that she was straddling him. Whether out of conscious thought or just habit, his arms went around her immediately. One rested just below her shoulder blade, the other slid down her back to her—

Hermione jumped, and the sudden movement made Harry stop what he was doing, hands off her body as if he'd just been caught by an overprotective parent. They watched each other with their faces only inches apart and breath coming in quick, even pants. She couldn't remember ever studying him from that close up before, and she was mesmerized by his eyes. They were called windows to the soul, but she knew that was something that lay far deeper than she would probably ever see. Instead, she thought she could see a little bit of herself in them, in the way he was looking back at her. It wasn't an entirely disturbing sight. If someone who wasn't in love with her could look at her with those eyes….

"See? Not so bad," said Harry, leaning back in to nuzzle her cheek. "We've just got to remember this is all because the Ministry has its eye on us." He kissed her nose, her eyes, and each corner of her mouth. "Just like the wedding, just like going for a walk together or inviting over one of our friends who doesn't know. We have to act like we would if someone was watching."

Then he stopped moving, and his eyes locked back onto hers. They watched each other for a moment and then simultaneously collapsed back on the couch in hysterical giggles. Hermione toppled off his lap and would have rolled right onto the floor if she hadn't gripped the seat cushion. She felt tears running down her face in rivers, but couldn't move to wipe them away, because her chest hurt too much. Harry's face was red from the sudden exertion, and he took breaths in short gulps between fits of laughter.

When she could finally breathe again, Hermione leaned back onto Harry's chest, and he settled back into the couch with one arm around her shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and, barely holding back a chuckle, said, "So no audience for us, eh?"

"I believe that's a resounding 'no,'" she said. "If I get a mental image of Neville standing in the corner cheering for us every time we try this, I don't think even _Wonder Witch_ will be able to help us."

"You got Neville? My mind went straight to Professor McGonagall!"

Hermione looked up at him and giggled. "She wouldn't cheer. She'd probably offer tips and techniques. Perhaps an enhancement spell or two."

"Oh Merlin," said Harry with a groan. "Now I will never be able to wipe clean that mental image."

"Happy to oblige." She cuddled back up to him, and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. "You know, I've missed this."

"Failed snogging sessions with me?"

She slapped him on the arm as she extracted herself from his grasp. "No, you twit. Just spending time with you." Once there was a friend-appropriate distance between them again, she said, "I hadn't realized until now how much I'd missed you."

Harry's smile was soft and small, but it was there all the same. "I've missed you, too, Hermione. We don't talk enough anymore."

"We used to at least talk about work. I don't feel like we've even done that much in months." Something pinged at the back of her mind. "Who's Quentin?"

"He's trouble," he said, his expression immediately turning to a frown. "Got transferred out of Magical Creatures and put onto my squad a few days ago, despite having never had formal Auror training."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why would Kingsley allow that?"

"He's Minister Bertrau's son."

"What?" She jumped out of her seat and started pacing in front of him, hand immediately going for her wand—until she realized, with a sinking sensation in her stomach, that she no longer had one. "This is bad, Harry. Really bad. Those things he was saying tonight?"

"I know," he said with a nod. "Believe me, I know. He's been acting like he's my best mate, but at the same time he drops little comments like that. And he's definitely a staunch supporter of his father's politics."

"But how is that possible? Didn't Remus say the Minister's Muggle-born daughter-in-law was the reason my little loophole existed in the first place? Does this Quentin have a brother?"

Harry shook his head. "I've never heard him talk about a wife, but I know he's an only child."

Hermione came back to the couch so she could look him in the eye properly. "Do you think he's watching you? Is that why he's on your team now?"

"I don't know. Kingsley didn't offer any explanations other than to watch my back."

"Charlie!"

"What?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"He told me that you should be careful. You know he and Kingsley work together on those special projects…maybe that's what he was talking about? Charlie works in Magical Creatures, after all. Maybe he knows something. Wasn't very forthcoming with the details, though."

"Well, if anyone can get it out of him, it's you."

She put her hands on her hips. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Harry gave her a knowing look, and this was one she didn't like to see, especially with that glint of humour hidden in it. "Remus and Tonks are practically married, Hermione. I doubt there's much they don't share with one another."

"That doesn't mean he has to share it with you!"

"Before the mood is totally ruined," he said with a little chuckle, "I have something for you." He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, then held it out to her. "I don't think I need to tell you how secret this has to be."

Hermione stared down at the wand, then looked back up at her best friend. "Harry, you can't give me—" Then she looked down again. It looked a lot like Harry's wand, but on closer observation, there were subtle differences. The wood was darker and it was slightly longer, if she was not mistaken. The carvings on the handle were more intricate than she'd ever seen on a wand before. "Harry…."

"Mahogany, twelve inches, harpy feather," he said, turning it over in his hand before offering it again. This time she took it with a trembling hand. "It won't be as attuned as yours, but I have it on good authority that it will be a suitable substitute in an emergency."

"I—I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll be careful," he said seriously, and scooted a little closer to her, brushing her hair back from her face. His palm rested on her cheek. Then he laughed lightly. "So nothing on bottle number one, huh?"

With a little giggle, Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "Ten more bottles to go before the end, love. Surely we can manage it by then."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have McGonagall staring you down."

* * *

Author's Note: 

Lots to contemplate in the last couple of chapters. I hope you guys are enjoying this, because it's just starting to get really good. :-)

In other news, the first chapter of **_How to Date George Weasley _**is now available! (Yep, I gave in.) It's a George/Alicia story that runs parallel to this one. It stands alone, but if you're enjoying _NAE_, I think you'll enjoy reading the other as well. I intend to have little references here and there between the two stories that will make it more fun for those reading both. Besides, the George/Alicia category gets depressingly few hits, so head over there and give me some review love!


	11. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Eleven

The Calm Before the Storm

"Four whole vials and you still haven't done it? Merlin, Hermione, just break out the emergency potion and get it over with."

Hermione turned to glare at her friend, but in doing so lost complete control of the flashing "Happy Birthday, Charlie!" banner she'd been trying to suspend from the ceiling with a modified sticking charm. She quickly corrected the damage her loss in concentration—or maybe it was the new wand—had caused and finished affixing the sign to its appropriate place before turning to face Tonks. The other witch was lounged on the couch crafting napkins into miniature dragons, but kept having trouble with them flying off before she could charm them to stay put.

"How did the topic suddenly change from your check-up to this?" Hermione huffed. "Besides, how would you feel if you suddenly were extremely attracted to, say, Charlie, and you wanted nothing more than to shag him into oblivion?"

"Like I had changed bodies with you?"

Hermione threw a handful of Liquorice Wands at her. "You know what I mean. I would much rather we did this based on sheer force of will than some magically-induced artificial attraction."

"Speaking of Charlie, how did your date go last night?"

"It wasn't a date," said Hermione, rolling her eyes, but smiling in spite of herself. "We just had dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. With Fred, George, Harry, Ron and Luna," she emphasized.

"What I wouldn't give for an order of fish and chips right now," said Tonks with a dreamy expression. She swatted at the Norwegian Ridgeback that was blowing little fire-shaped chunks of napkin in her face. "And?"

"And nothing. We ate, we chatted, we went home."

"Alone?"

"Alone. Well, with Harry, obviously." At Tonks's raised eyebrow, Hermione added, "And yes, last night was vial number four. Merlin, Tonks, if I didn't already know all too well that you and Remus shag like rabbits, I'd think you were seriously deprived in that arena of your life."

"_Shag like rabbits_…I've never described it quite like that. Your words, no doubt, Nymphadora?"

Hermione felt her face grow hot as she looked up to see Remus standing at the end of the hall with a raised eyebrow and a crooked grin. She'd nearly forgotten that he was in the flat; she wasn't usually there on Saturdays. It wasn't that she doubted the two discussed these things in her absence, but to have her former Professor hear her talking about his sex life in such blunt terms, especially when she already knew that Harry had been discussing _hers_ with the man….

Tonks tilted her head back so she could see him, a wide smile spreading across her face. "You know what I call it."

He bent down and kissed her, lingering a moment before saying, "That I do."

"Okay, enough!" said Hermione, one hand over her eyes. "I can honestly say that, even though I'm sure Tonks will tell me in time, I do_ not_ want to know."

They both laughed, but Remus at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he avoided direct eye contact. Instead, he came around to the other side of the couch and scooped up the remaining napkins. A Hungarian Horntail nipped at his fingertips, but he didn't even flinch as he waved his wand and said, "_Sedo_." Immediately, the dragon-napkin settled into his palm.

"Now," he said, carefully placing the now calm creatures on the nearby table, "I think it's time you rested for a bit. It's likely to be a long evening."

Tonks looked like she wanted to protest, but as soon as she opened her mouth, a wide yawn overtook her features.

"Don't even think about arguing, Nymphadora," said Remus, pulling her to her feet.

"I'll go back to bed if you'll join me there," she said with a sly grin, winking at Hermione over his shoulder.

"Perhaps after I've had a chance to catch up with Hermione," he said, still smiling softly.

They exchanged one last kiss, lingering far longer than was comfortable to witness, and then Tonks waltzed back to her room with a little extra sway of her hips. Remus shook his head, chuckling a little. When he turned back to Hermione, however, he looked a little sheepish.

"I apologize," he said. "Sometimes her bad influence is too much for even me to resist. And with everything that's going on, well, it's hard not to take advantage of all the time we have together, even at the expense of our guests' embarrassment."

She wasn't quite sure how to answer that. Yes, it was awkward to even think about her former professor's bedroom activities—even harder knowing exactly how much he was involved with hers—but she certainly couldn't begrudge him the comforts of a normal, healthy relationship. If anyone deserved it, those two did.

"Don't worry about it, Remus," she said finally. "I think whatever propriety we had regarding our sexual activity was gone the day the Ministry issued its first proclamation governing who we can and can't be involved with romantically."

He nodded. "And as much as I'd like to reassure you that it's going to get better anytime soon, I really can't. We're doing all we can—trying to influence those open to suggestion, rigging votes, anything—but the ripple effect just hasn't been enough." He sank heavily onto the couch, absently playing with one of the party hats stacked on the coffee table. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to warn you about the changes to the Registration Proclamation."

"You shouldn't be sorry," she said, sitting down next to him. "It's not your responsibility to look after us unwanted members of society. Not that I'm not grateful for any edge I can get, but you really shouldn't feel discouraged over such a tiny thing." At his raised eyebrow, she flushed. "Well, okay, not exactly small. But it's not as if they had decided to snap my wand already."

"That's true, I suppose," said Remus with a sigh, "but I just wanted you to know that we are doing all we can, even if you may not be seeing any changes yet. It's going to take something…momentous to shake us from this political stupor Bertrau has fostered."

Hermione grabbed a stray liquorice wand from where it had landed on the couch and offered it to him. "But at least we're here to celebrate the simple things. Or most of us are, anyway."

"That we are," he agreed, taking the candy and biting off one end. "Are we nearly ready for the party? I think Charlie's supposed to be home in an hour."

"Molly and Luna are cooking everything at the Burrow. I suggested they do it here, but Molly insisted the smells might make Tonks ill. I think she was just afraid I might try and help."

Remus laughed. "Well, you did burn the roast on Sunday."

"That was once!" Hermione huffed, indignant. "If you think my cooking is so bleeding awful, then perhaps you should find someone else to make sure your unborn child is receiving his proper nutrition."

"No, I think you're doing just fine, Hermione," he choked out through his laughter. "But Molly is a much more particular cook than most. I believe her kitchen has a zero tolerance for burned roasts."

"Or cracked teapots," she said with a giggle, suddenly remembering the incident with Aunt Muriel's treasured heirloom. "They should be here pretty soon with the food. Besides, Charlie already knows about the party."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "No secrets between lovers, eh?"

"Remus!"

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist the temptation to take the micky. I declare temporary insanity under my partner's deplorable influence."

"I, unlike your partner, have a sense of dignity when it comes to private pursuits, thank you," she said haughtily, but smiled all the same. "And if you must know, Fred is the one who let it slip. And Charlie and I aren't sleeping together. Luna says the test would know the difference between him and Harry."

Remus's expression sobered immediately. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't intend—"

She put a hand on his arm. "It's all right, really. Charlie and I—it's very complicated."

Before he could comment, a rather large owl flew in through the window they'd left cracked. It landed on the table in front of Remus, lifting its leg for him. Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"Prophet," he said as he paid the owl and sent it on its way. He unrolled the parchment. "The Saturday edition has the real news, though most don't realize it. A lot is hidden amongst the recipes and society news."

She raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

He skimmed for a few seconds before tilting the page toward her. "Here. There's been a massive recall of Calming Draughts produced by Malvin's Medicines."

Hermione took the paper from him and read through the article. It actually wasn't long enough to be considered a true article—more of a notation, really—and it was squeezed in between a review of Celestina Warbeck's latest London show and list of handy winter fashion tips (wool cloaks were in, leather ones out), just like Remus had indicated. Still, she didn't quite understand the significance, and she said so.

"It's not the potions themselves that are important so much as the ingredients," Remus said, laying the paper on the table so that he could give her his full attention. "It's the embargos, you see? Expensive components lead to recipe changes, substitutions…."

"Substitutions lead to substandard products," she said, nodding as she caught onto his meaning. "Which leads to recalls, not to mention the injuries that could be caused by that sort of thing being ineffective."

"Today it's Calming Draughts, tomorrow maybe Blood Replenishing Potions. It's only a matter of time before the Ministry has a pandemic on its hands. One small pebble that causes a tidal wave."

Hermione leaned back into the plush couch cushions, letting the gravity of what he was saying really sink into her head. Didn't the Minister see what was happening? How all these proclamations and regulations were eventually going to lead to destruction of the world they knew? For that matter, didn't the general population see it? Why were they allowing themselves to take comfort in such ridiculousness? Sure, it was structure, but she was sure Voldemort would have brought structure of a kind, had he come into true power. Then again, the world had been too scared to rise up against him as well. She sighed heavily.

Luckily, partygoers began showing up only minutes later, and that served to lift the mood that had begun to settle in the room. Molly was first, Luna only a moment behind her and supporting a far-too-large cake with a hovering charm. Ron was next, in his work robes—"Last minute negotiations," he explained—and then Harry, Fred and George, and plenty of other friends and family poured in. Pretty soon the flat was more lively than she had ever seen it, but Hermione felt tense, uneasy, and she wasn't exactly sure why.

Tonks reappeared for her guests newly clad in thin, flowing robes that showed off her new curves while still being elegant. She tripped on the hem at least three times before Remus gave her his stern face, and she sat on the couch.

"The place looks lovely," said Luna after she had settled the cake safely on the kitchen island. Molly was still fussing with the layout of food, but the slight, blonde witch had chosen to sit with her friends instead. She caught a stray flying napkin by the tail and calmed it with a spell. "It's nice to get together for fun instead of necessity."

"'Bout bloody time we did," agreed Tonks.

Hermione smiled but could not answer. She traced the path from the kitchen to the hallway several times before realizing that she was pacing. It was half an hour past the official start time of the party before she realized where her antsiness was coming from: where in Merlin's name was Charlie? It was ridiculous for her to worry. After all, the routine mission he was completing was supposedly tamer than Remus's daily life at the Ministry. So why did she have that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach?

The twins caught her on the hundredth revolution around the room, somewhere in the vicinity of the fireplace. Most of the group had gathered either around Tonks or in the kitchen with Molly, but they had been bouncing effortlessly between conversations.

"Why the long face?" asked George, tipping back a bottle of Charlie's favourite beer. "We were under the impression things were going better for our best girl."

"Do we need to hex someone for you?" asked Fred, sweeping his peripheral gaze over the room as if trying to be sneaky. He stopped on Harry and narrowed his eyes. "Your husband, perhaps? I thought maybe his hands were getting a bit too grope-y last night."

Hermione rolled her eyes. If anything, Harry wasn't "grope-y" enough. It seemed like every attempt they had at…that was devolving even sooner into a late night heart-to-heart than it was snogging. She loved getting to spend so much quality time with him—and she hoped that having someone in which he could confide would help him as well—so she didn't have the heart yet to point out how counterproductive it was becoming. Though he probably realized and was too noble to bring it up.

"Speaking of groping," said George, before she could answer. He nodded toward the armchair nearest the kitchen. He shook his head in disappointment. "Subtlety, little brother. Honestly. I don't know where he gets it."

"Certainly didn't learn those moves from us," Fred agreed.

Luna was sitting on the edge of Ron's knees, listening eagerly to some conversation that had Remus gesturing largely and Tonks grinning like a madwoman. Ron kept running his hands along his wife's back and torso, and then occasionally roaming to _other_ areas just to have them swatted at. Luna hardly acknowledged the advances in any other way, which made Hermione giggle suddenly in spite of herself.

Fred and George gave her an odd look and then exchanged one of their own, this one of satisfaction.

"Well, I think our work here is done, Gred."

"Aye, I believe you're right, Forge."

Hermione barely acknowledged them as they walked off, giving her a knowing smile. She was still staring intently as her two friends cuddled—sort of—in the chair without a care in the world. She saw Harry look up at her, but she stubbornly refused to lock eyes with him. For all the carefree attitude Luna showed, Harry gave off all the intensity of her current situation, and she was already more worked up than she liked.

"Should I be jealous?" said a voice so close to her ear that she jumped, but recognizing the voice, she allowed herself a tiny smile as his arms snaked around her waist.

"Charlie W—"

He stopped her abruptly with a hand over her mouth. "Not so loud. Give me at least a minute alone with you before Mum notices I'm here."

"We aren't alone," she said softly. His lips brushed some sensitive skin behind her ear, and she shivered, leaning into him. Almost immediately, he jerked backward as if her weight was too much, and she had to catch herself from slipping. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

When she spun to face him, he had steadied himself on the mantle. He smiled in what she supposed was intended as reassurance. "I'm just a little dizzy from the floo. I didn't realize at first."

She opened her mouth to comment about how she had never seen him react that way to the travel before, and how she knew he couldn't tell her about his mission, but she suspected it was more dangerous than Remus had lead her to believe—and she wasn't going to let either of them get away with that.

And then Charlie collapsed on the floor.

* * *

For those who haven't read my bio or livejournal, I've spent the last 6 weeks with a broken wrist. Hence the extreme delay in updating. More to come VERY soon, as this is actually just the first part of what was shaping up to be a veeery long chapter. I figured you might want me to break it up so you could read some sooner (and this already exceeded my personal minimum). Also gave me a good chance to add in a very nice little cliffhanger, even though it wasn't quite like that before. I like this new version best. :-)

For those who've missed it, I've got 2 chapters up of the companion story, _How to Date George Weasley_. Please check that out as well.

Much love to all you wonderful readers!


	12. The Real News

Chapter Twelve

The Real News

Hermione immediately dropped to her knees beside him. "Charlie? Charlie, what's the matter?"

No one else had noticed his arrival or his collapse yet, but it was only a matter of moments. She pulled back his winter cloak, searching for any obvious injuries, but there were none visible. His breathing was steady, but his skin was beaded with sweat as if he'd come in from an exceptionally hot day, rather than December chill. It had only taken her seconds to assess the situation, but it seemed like hours.

"Remus? What's happened to him? Where's he been?" she asked, standing to address the group. Her voice must have sounded pretty frantic, because nearly everyone in the room came rushing toward her. Of course, as soon as they saw Charlie on the floor, she was no longer the focus of their attention.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to reach him, despite having been clear across the room at Hermione's outcry. Tonks was next, despite Remus's admonition that she should stay put and let the others handle it. The latter didn't seem quite as distressed as Hermione might have expected, though his forehead was lined with worry. The calmest person in the room by far was Luna, who simply walked over and parted the clambering party guests as if there'd been no one in the way at all. They all got quiet as she examined the patient.

"He's fine," she said after a moment, smiling up at the group. "_Ennervate_."

Charlie began to stir immediately. Hermione felt her heartbeat start to settle into a normal rhythm again. As soon as he awoke fully, a moment of panic crossed his face, and his eyes darted across those standing above him before he finally relaxed. "I—I'm sorry if I frightened you."

Luna stopped him when he tried to sit up. Her voice was scolding when she said, "You should know better than to exert yourself so fully, Charlie."

"Charles Septimus Weasley," said Molly, doing her best to sound stern, but coming off as nothing but relieved. "You gave us quite a scare there. What have you gone and done to yourself now?"

Hermione got the distinct feeling that this was the voice Mrs. Weasley used every time Charlie came home with a new dragon-related injury. She felt a little relieved that the older woman wasn't as concerned as she would have thought, but there was still a nagging sense that she didn't know everything that was going on.

"I'm fine, Mum, really," he said, and this time he stood up with Bill's help. "It's just been a really long day."

"A really long day that ends in you fainting the second you step foot into your flat?"

Everyone turned to look at her the second the words came out of her mouth. She knew they were all thinking it, so why didn't anyone else say anything? Or maybe they weren't thinking it, and her bringing it up just drew extra attention to the fact that she was a married woman smitten with another man. Whatever the reason, she felt very exposed with all their eyes on her. It wasn't as if _she_ had just collapsed.

"I'm going to go change," said Charlie quietly, and he pushed through everyone and disappeared down the hall. Hermione didn't hesitate, but turned immediately to go after him. She thought a voice might have called after her, but she was too preoccupied to even consider stopping.

When he stepped into his bedroom, he left the door open. Either he'd heard her footsteps behind his, or he'd known she'd follow. Despite his seemingly quick recovery, she didn't feel any calmer, any less anxious, and her hands were shaking as she pulled the door closed behind her. She was silent for a moment, watching as he stood with his back to her, ran a hand through his hair, and then slowly turned.

"I'm fine, Hermione."

"You are bloody well not fine," she said, the words coming out clipped and snappy. "Remus makes it sound like you're all just players in a giant game of real life wizard's chess, but I'm beginning to think it's a lot more than that. What happened to you today?"

"Nothing," Charlie said, shaking his head. Then, with one quick motion, he pulled his shirt over his head. Maybe he was trying to distract her—and if that was the case, it was working just a little. "Today wasn't any different than any other. I just...what was it Luna said? Exerted myself too fully."

Hermione's eyes travelled over his torso and chest, making no secret of how she was examining his body. There were still no injuries that she could see, no obvious signs of distress. A thin sheen of sweat remained on his skin, but otherwise there was no indication that anything was out of the ordinary. In fact, it was quite the opposite. His body was well-muscled and obviously in good shape. Perhaps not quite as toned as it had been several months ago, before he'd returned to England—and really, that was only conjecture on her part, as he still looked plenty toned to her—but he'd gone from hard physical labour outdoors to a desk job, so a certain amount of that was to be expected.

He definitely didn't look like the sort who could overexert himself on a job that was supposedly easy and safe.

"My life has enough lies without you using them on me," she said, keeping her voice carefully even this time. She wasn't sure if she was angry or just hurt. Why wouldn't he want to tell her what was going on?

He let out a quiet sigh, taking a few strides toward her, but stopping before he reached her. "It's not a lie. Even if I thought about doing that to you—which I haven't, by the way—I'm not so stupid to think you're that stupid."

"Lie, purposeful omission... It's the same thing."

"Are you sharing all the intimate details of your life with me?"

She didn't answer at first, watching his eyes. She and Tonks had discussed some of the details of her complicated relationship with Harry, but she'd avoided the subject with Charlie. It was more than a little awkward to talk to him about snogging another man. When she was sure it wasn't a rhetorical question, she asked, "Do you want to know about all the intimate details?"

"That's not an answer."

"Neither is that." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

Groaning at that, Charlie crossed the remaining distance between them and pulled her into a searing kiss. It took her by surprise, enough that she didn't actually relax into him until he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Whatever strength he'd been lacking upon arrival at the flat had either returned, or her legs were simply weak enough in return to compensate. A little voice told her that she should stand her ground and push him away, demand that he tell her what was going on. Right. Now. She knew before that voice had even spoken that she wouldn't listen to it.

"Charlie," she managed between kisses, the sound barely louder than a breath. "What are you doing?"

He paused with his lips hovering just in front of hers, as if he was debating whether to answer or stop her from speaking any more. She had very nearly decided to make the decision for him, as the distraction of his closeness was almost more than she could handle, when his answer came. "Stealing a birthday snog from my favourite witch." Something in her look must have told him that wasn't a sufficient answer, though, because he added, "Please, Hermione. I...can't. Not right now. Can you just trust me when I say I'm not doing anything that's more dangerous than my old job was?"

She dropped her eyes, unable to maintain contact with his. She didn't want to trust him with that. She wanted to know exactly what was going on and why he couldn't seem to trust her with that information. Secret missions were one thing, and she understood the need for them, but this was something else. That had always been a weakness of hers. The need to know had driven her too far in the past, and she couldn't risk doing that right now. She needed Charlie in her life, if for no other reason than to distract her from the bad things that were happening around her. It was selfish, but it was the truth.

Her hand moved from his waist, up his bare chest, and came to rest on his neck. One finger extended to touch the thin scar that started there. It occurred to her that this was the first time she'd ever seen him shirtless like this, close enough that she could follow the line of the old injury down to the spot on his chest where it stopped just over his heart. She traced the scar with a light touch. "Is that supposed to be comforting? I've seen what your old job did."

Charlie snorted a laugh. "Actually, that one's from the time the twins climbed a tree and got stuck, and I fell while trying to rescue the little buggers. Who managed to get down perfectly well on their own and without a bleeding scratch to go tell Mum I'd hurt myself." He scowled, but it was obvious that the memory was a cherished one. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. "Please?"

She studied him another moment. "Okay."

With another quick kiss and a touch of her hand, she stepped back into the hallway and closed the door quietly, waiting for him to change clothes. She was sure he wouldn't have complained if she'd stayed, but if there was any hope of spending a relatively normal evening with his family, she needed her head as far away from there as possible. Snatches of conversation drifted back to her, but it was nothing serious, no furtive whispers about Charlie's well-being or her interest in it. Maybe she was overreacting.

The way Charlie gripped the door frame as he came out to meet her made her think again—maybe not.

"Oh no, she's perfectly wonderful," Luna was saying as they rejoined the group. "I only wonder that they assigned her to Tonks's case. Healer Cabot usually only handles Muggleborn cases, you see. I believe her parents are both Muggle healers."

"Doctors," Hermione corrected automatically.

Luna turned to smile at her friend. "Yes! Doctors. I imagine it would be fascinating to study. Eleanor—that is, Healer Cabot—says they actually slice open a patient's skin with a knife. It's really rather horrifying, isn't it?"

The tone of her voice didn't make her sound particularly horrified, but the look on Ron's face was enough to bring a little giggle to Hermione's throat. She felt Charlie's hand move to the small of her back as he stepped up next to her, but she resisted the urge to snuggle into his side. Casual touches were one thing; waving their non-relationship like a flag when her husband was in the room was something else. Fake marriage or not, it simply felt strange.

"Eleanor was a Hufflepuff," Tonks said in between bites of roast beef. "A year above me, but we were mates."

"Impossible to shut them up sometimes," Charlie said.

Tonks rolled her eyes, but she didn't disagree. "I requested her. Can't hurt to have another friend on our side, even if she doesn't know the truth."

"Come then, enough talk of business," said Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes shifted to her second son, and for half a second Hermione could tell that the woman hadn't forgotten Charlie's collapse as easily as it seemed. It was only a brief glimpse of worry, though, and then she was bustling up to him and tugging on his arm. "Can't let the birthday boy go hungry. It's been a busy day, no doubt. You must be hungry, love. I've made all of your favourites."

"Thanks, Mum," he said, kissing her on the cheek and allowing her to steer him toward the kitchen.

Hermione forced herself not to stare after him, taking a seat on the arm of George's chair instead. Her nerves were starting to calm, her mood to turn into one more appropriate for a party. They all deserved to relax a bit, and she tried to clear her head of everything that was bothering her lately. Worrying about Tonks and the baby, about Charlie, about sleeping with Harry, about Ginny, about getting her wand back...it was more exhausting than she liked to admit.

Charlie returned to the sitting room with a plate that could probably have fed three first year students at Hogwarts, sitting on the couch next to Tonks. He exchanged a quick smile with Hermione, then settled into conversation with Bill and Fleur. Hermione had just stood to help herself to some of the food when there was a knock at the door.

They all glanced around as if checking to see who they'd forgotten. Hermione couldn't think of anyone, especially anyone who would need to knock at the front door, but she thought it was entirely possible Charlie could have invited someone from work. When he stood to answer it, it occurred to her that she often forgot this was technically his flat. She knew he lived in it, of course, but she always thought of it as belonging to Tonks, as if he was simply camping there. It really wasn't far from the truth, she supposed.

"Hello," he said as he opened the door, his tone pleasant enough. "Can I help you?"

The door swing open enough that Hermione could barely make out the figure standing out on the landing. It was a woman, probably not far from Charlie's age. Her clothes and hair were neat, and her posture and expression were timid.

"Oh, hello," the woman said, obviously taken aback by the crowd that was staring at her from inside. Her eyes darted around at them all before going back to Charlie. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm Diana. I volunteer for St. Mungo's on the weekends." She held out a small wrapped package. "Healer Cabot asked me to drop by with this. It's not much, but she thought it might help Ms. Tonks with..." Her cheeks turned pink. "Well, I suppose it's rather confidential, isn't it? She said it would help. With things."

George snickered. Hermione couldn't tell if it was about Tonks's "things" or the woman's stammered and jerky statements, but she backhanded his arm lightly anyway. He pretended to rub away the pain, but she knew her reaction really only made it funnier for him. She smacked him again.

"Ah," Charlie said. "Well, thanks then for bringing it by. Tell Healer Cabot thanks as well."

The confusion in his tone echoed what Hermione was feeling. Did St. Mungo's often send runners to make house calls? She'd never heard of such a thing, but it was possible. The texts she'd read on the hospital hadn't been as thorough as she would have liked. It bothered her nonetheless. Perhaps it was just natural for her to be suspicious these days, and for good reason, but the woman's sudden appearance felt wrong. She'd have to talk to Charlie about it later, once the party was finished and the guests had gone.

"I will." The woman raised a hand and gave a little wave. "Bye then." She turned on her heel and disapparated.

Charlie closed the door and turned back to the room, shaking his head in amusement. He tilted the package leaning in closer to read something, then laughed aloud. "Calming Draught. I'd say Eleanor remembers you well enough, Dora. I'm surprised she didn't send a whole case of the stuff."

He tossed it toward Tonks, but Remus stepped into its path and grabbed the package out of the air before it could reach its destination. The look on his face was enough to job Hermione's memory, and she realised why she was so uneasy.

"Calming Draught? But that's..."

Remus nodded, the creases on his face made more pronounced by his frown. When he spoke, his voice was much calmer than Hermione expected it would be. "Luna? Do you think this is something she'll need?"

"Remus, what—" Tonks stopped at his look, turning toward the slight blond witch.

Luna had a pensive look on her face. Hermione wouldn't have thought twice about it except for the slight frown that marred her friend's features. It looked as if the witch was working out a dozen riddles all at once, or at the least one that was so complex she couldn't make quick work of it. After a moment, as if continuing some unspoken conversation, she said, "Well, I suppose it's not _that_ odd."

"What's not odd, love?" Ron said without a hint of irritation.

"Oh, it's perfectly safe," Luna replied, her lips then turning into a slight smile. It was only a subtle change from her previous expression. "Not necessary, I don't think, but safe. Diana's very nice," she added, turning toward her husband. When he continued to look at her, waiting for an answer to her question, she patted his cheek. "I don't see why she didn't send it by owl, though. It would have been much less trouble."

Hermione looked at Remus, and when he caught her eye, he nodded again. Luna continued on about hospital policy for potions, and the differences between the procedures for ones that required a healer's prescription and those that did not, but Hermione barely listened. She watched as he moved out of the room and into the kitchen, then slowly unwrapped the package and turned the potion into the sink. If the others noticed—and she was sure a few did—no one said anything, and she was glad. There would be time to discuss after they'd celebrated. Maybe a recalled potion was nothing.

"—but I suppose she can do as she likes." She kissed Ron's cheek. "I'm glad you don't take advantage of your fame."

The tips of Ron's ears turned bright red, but Hermione could tell the comment pleased him. She'd never considered herself and Ron to be famous like Harry, but they had gotten enough attention in the years after the war that it had sometimes seemed it.

"Everyone at the hospital whispers about her. I think it's very sad that no one likes her just because her father-in-law is the Minister."

What little sound there had been in the room ceased for long, silent moment, and then there was a sudden rush of sound. A clatter and the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen as Remus dropped the potion vial. Harry swearing. Mrs. Weasley's gasp. The cracking of Charlie's knuckles.

Luna broke the awkward moment with a question. "Oh, you didn't know? I suppose it's because she's so very shy."

Harry stood up and exchanged significant looks with Remus and Charlie, then moved to retrieve his cloak from the hook near the door. "I'll find out whatever I can. Don't worry, Remus. Sorry, Charlie."

If not for that last muttered apology as he exited, they might have all forgotten they were even at a party.

"All right, everyone. Come now," Mrs. Weasley said, a determined expression on her face. "Cake."

* * *

Author's Note:

I told you I'd be back to this eventually. Work is hell right now, but I need the creative outlet. I've got a full outline on this story, so I'm doing my best to hurry up and get this thing finished. Sorry for the wait!


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